As I am sitting in my office, trying to multi-task and thinking all the same how much I miss blogging, I was reminded that I am funny.
I think I am funny. My dad thinks he's funny. Yet other people don't necessarily think me or my father are funny. We keep trying because that is just who we are.
I made up several invitations for birthday parties coming up in the merry horrid month of May. By the time I reached Owen's invite, I had really let my inhibitions go. Who am I trying to impress really? I am already sending out an evite, gasp and shameful. (I am sorry Heidi G., this is neither classy nor what you have taught me at all of our craft nights) But I gotta shave time wherever possible.
So my invite for Owen went something like this,
Owen is embarking on the ripe age of 7. He thinks his ninja skills are sweet. He wants his Ninja buddies to come and swap swords, practice roundhouse kicks, and fight serpentine! His party won't be complete without you!
Please join us for some serious Ninjago Action!
Cake and Ice Cream and treats will be served. Along with a healthy dose of Ninjago strength.
As I read it to him, he just started to giggle and smile at me with his missing toothless smile. It melted my heart and made me want to wax poetic.
I am funny, even if it is only to my son who loves me and thinks everything I do is pretty much amazing!
