Happy birthday, Emily!

Every year I insist that she is three, but, can you believe it, she’s nine! She won’t even let me pretend she’s three, the stinker.

She was a great sport and spent her birthday at an outdoor concert and church picnic in Nevada where her Daddy sang.

Daddy found a better use for the picnic balloons after the function was over. He gave them a second life as birthday balloons. (That’s the diplomatic way of saying he stole the balloons.)

Nine years old and sweet as can be.

Happy birthday! We all love you…and we’re not just saying that because you made those cupcakes for us. Really!