This is how ten year olds celebrate their birthday in Las Vegas.
Blowing out the candles!
When birthday number eleven rolled around we were back in Williston. Look closely at the decorations in the center of my cake...
I still have those kitties! They're practically antiques now.
Sweet sixteen, complete with goofy siblings. In that horrible little trailer in Grafton that had pink kitchen appliances. We celebrated birthdays come hell or high water, no matter the surroundings. Mom felt that these were our own personal holidays and made the effort for all four of us. The pressed glass cake plate came from the farm in Mississippi, where my dad grew up. We used the nice stuff, no sitting around in the dark of a cabinet for us! I have that plate now, and, yes, I do use it on occasion. What I remember so clearly about this birthday was that my dad showed up with a gift. But not for me, for Cullen. As far as I'm concerned this action violated the prime birthday objective. Which is to give stuff to the birthday designee. Which was me. And isn't this perhaps the ugliest couch? Ever?
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