Life doesn't get much more exciting than the eve of your sixth birthday; hence this morning's 3.20 am wake-up, I suppose. Similar happened a few Christmases ago, but this is the first time for a birthday. I did managed to get Eddie to stay in bed until 6.30 am in the end, but it was a struggle.
Everything was 'epic' today: the crossbow 'which is my very best weapon, and always will be'; the Mister Maker drawers, the Yoda cushion, the Star Wars bedding. He particularly liked the fluttery notes that came from envelopes (thank you GAS and MGM if you are reading).
One of his favourite presents was a real, actual grown-up digital camera. He was a bit disappointed when his first few pictures came out 'smudged'. I love his language choices, I really do. Part of me is sorry that he has found the delete button already and the disastrous early photographs are not preserved for posterity (I have an album full of smudges).
In other news, Gilby appears to have developed a phobia of daddy-long legs. Slightly problematic given their ubiquity right now.
Currently reading: Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford