It's Good to be Seven

Our littlest guy isn't so little anymore. Tate just turned the big 0-7.

And I don't think he could have had a better day. 

He got a brand new bathrobe — the perfect gift for a kid who wears pajamas every minute that he's home.

He spent hours playing with his new Football Guys, lining up plastic linemen and defensive backs, repositioning running backs, and making sure the referee was where he needed to be.

He went out to a fancy a lunch at Arby's.

He went to Play it Again Sports and tried on umpire masks and hockey goalie sticks.

He found a $1 copy of Madden 2012 for the Xbox at the D.I.

And he spent his evening at his happy place: the Maverik Center, watching the Utah Grizzlies.

The simple joys of being seven. 

Turning the Big 0-5

Turning five is a pretty big deal. Tate's been counting down the days for weeks. And why not. He's had pretty much the best day(s) ever. 

The night before his birthday, he got to go out with his grandma and grandpa. Dinner at Popeyes, followed by a trip to Target to pick out some TeenyMates and some hockey cards. Yeah, pretty sweet. 

On his actual birthday, he got to have his favorite breakfast (scrambled eggs) and his favorite dinner (bacon and nacho cheese -- seriously). 

And, of course, some presents. 

(For a boy who spends 20 hours a day in pajamas, this was the perfect gift.) 

During the day, he took full advantage of the kindness of his mother. 

After dinner, the plan was to go to Tate's favorite place, Nickelcade. But right before we were about to leave, we had this conversation:

Tate: Can we go to the tennis court and use my new racket?

Me: Let's go to Nickelcade tonight and then we can play tennis on Saturday. 

(I would have been fine to just play tennis, but Paige and Curtis would have flipped out if we didn't go to the arcade.)

Tate: Can we go to Nickelcade on Saturday? 

Me: Sorry, buddy. We can't. 

Tate: (Clutching his racket) That's okay. We can just go to Nickelcade for my birthday next year.

(Ah, what a sweet little guy.)

Me: How 'bout we go play tennis for just a few minutes and then we go to the Nickelcade. 

(The perfect compromise.)

A pretty happy five-year-old. 

We're lucky to have him.