you say it's your birthday

I cannot believe my baby is eleven years old. Owsley is the best parts of me and Peppy combined. He is naturally loving and affectionate (Peppy) and can instinctively pick up on other people's feelings and emotions and happily accommodate to that (me.) He has a big, giving heart, although I must admit that both of my children inherited my nonchalance/slight apathy for life. I think it's genetic. Owsley is a big helper to me. He helps me bake and he is the best grocery shopping buddy you could ask for. He pushes the buggy for me and rings up our things while I bag them. I've never even asked him to do these things for me. He just wants to. And he can tell you anything you want to know about roller coasters.

Owsley has these memories of when he was four and I would make him bacon and cheese pancake balls in this particular skillet my mom had given me for Christmas one year. But when we moved in the RV we put all the heavy kitchen stuff that we didn't think we would immediately use (that skillet weighed at least fifteen pounds) in the storage unit....and then it was all stolen. So we haven't had pancake balls in seven years. I didn't even know Owsley remembered them until a few months ago when he started talking about them A LOT.

So I bought a new skillet and thought I'd surprise him with that for breakfast. I think it was a success.

All that Owsley really asked for was a new desk for his birthday, so we spent the morning putting that together. It reminded me of building all the new furniture when we initially moved in. We make a good team when it comes to assembling furniture. We took him out for lunch and then got together with my parents and siblings and Memaw for some homemade cookie cake, pumpkin juice, and butter beer. Owsley tried the pumpkin juice first and said it was amazing, but then he tried the butter beer and he said it tasted just like the one from Universal. Win all around! All four of us were pretty impressed with both the copycat recipes.

I warmed up some pumpkin juice later on, and it was so good. It tasted a lot like this hot fruit tea we served at a restaurant I used to work at. It had a cult following. People would buy it by the gallon and probably tell their friends they made it themselves. Who knows. I always thought that if those ladies knew how much sugar was in that hot tea, they would probably immediately go on a diet.