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And then he turned 8

I’m still not entirely sure how my sweet Noah Boah can be eight … but we spent an entire weekend celebrating so it must be true.  I feel like child rearing – for me anyway – consists of really really really looooooooong days (especially when the big boys were all little) that somehow (magically, I’m sure) make up months and years that simply fly by.  How long days equal short years is beyond me, but that’s how it seems to work around here.  Noah is eight.  Eight!


Noah’s birthday was all about chocolate (in this case, homemade dark chocolate pudding with whipped cream and chocolate chips – YUM!) and legos.  We have so many legos in this house we should open up shop.  Seriously.  At eight years old, Noah is developing a truly hilarious sense of humor and makes up long poems – all rhyming of course – in his head that he can recite on command.  He is polite, and sensitive, and sweet as can be.  Goodness, I love this kid so so much.

Happy Birthday dear Noah!


Metta - Whhaaaaa? How is that possible? I swear he’s only four. And he loves THOMAS, not legos. Right? Amazing how this is all flying by.April 29, 2013 – 6:31 PM

Erin - It’s weird to think that when I first started reading your blog and admiring your photography he was your littlest monkey.April 30, 2013 – 5:35 AM

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