Besides Hubby's 39th birthday, two other important occasions also occurred on Sunday.
First, it commemorated the 5th anniversary of the death of Hubby's grandfather Job (pronounced "Jobe" or "Joe-b". As in "the patience of..."), who died on Hubby's 34th birthday back in 2004. I was pregnant with Middle. Hence, Middle is named after him.
(And you try explaining to a newly reading 4 year old why his middle name is spelled J-O-B but not pronounced that way. Fun times.)
Second, Eldest made yet another leap into big boy-dom. He gave up (sleeping with) his security blanket. This summer, he had stated, on his own, that he was going to give up his "blankie" when he turned 7 in October. Well, that didn't happen. He wasn't ready.
Instead, he decided that he'd do it on Daddy's birthday.
Hubby and I had, of course, completely forgotten about it. But early Sunday morning, Eldest came up to me and said, "Mom, remember that you need to get me a box? I'm putting my blanket away today!"
So I found a box. And Eldest, with no pressure whatsoever (hey, I was fine with him sleeping with it for the next 15 years - that'd keep the girls away, right?) packed away not only his beloved, worn and tattered blue blankie, but also Ducky, his very first lovey that he slept with as an infant:
And that regardless of how big he gets, Rule #1 is that he must ALWAYS HOLD HIS MOTHER'S HAND. "I will, Mommy."
(Will that keep the girls away?)
And then there's these 2 knuckleheads: