Well, mine, darlings.
I turned 27 on January 2. Twenty-freaking-seven. I had the smallest of panic attacks- the BFF called it a quarter life crisis- but I've sort of bounced back. Sort of meaning I'm not pouting and crying at random anymore. Much. Whatever.
I never thought I'd be the person who gave a hoot about my age. And I thought that if I ever did become that person, I could at least wait until 40 or something. 40 is a respectable age to have a crisis. 27...not so much. It kind of makes me feel like a total wuss.
On the other hand, my ten year high school reunion is in a year. A YEAR. I still remember being a freshman at my first pep rally, thinking there was no way in hell that I'd ever make it to graduation. I'm not ready to realize that that little freshman girl I once was is only a distant memory.
But, anyway. Enough of that depressing nonsense. This was the second annual ice cream breakfast that Monkey and I shared on my birthday. Of all traditions we've started, this is definitely my favorite.
We went to Ghirardelli at Downtown Disney, just like last year. We even sat at the same table. Landon- who was roaring through his terrible twos and just about to zoom on into his terrible threes- actually behaved like an angel. Afterwards, we wandered through the stores, and rode the carousel. All in all, a dream morning for a freshly 27 year old gal. :)
