Festivities began the day before at the movies. The girls saw Judy Moody and the big boys and I saw Super 8. Sam had been following every bit of Super 8 Internet news possible for the past year. We all loved it. I cried. That's not so surprising.
I was grateful that I happened to have the day off from massage therapy clinic on Ben's big day. I made the kids help me out with our move preparations in the morning, because I'm mean. At noon Ben opened presents and then went off to lunch to celebrate joint birthdays with Granddad.
Judy and Jeremy and the cousins met us there. They have the Pass of all Passes too, so I'm excited about fun prospects for the summer.
This might look more fun than it was. After dinner Grandma Martha and I took the kids to Orem Summerfest. We had been watching it go up for days. We bought a bunch of tickets and stood in a line that was only moving imperceptibly. Too many people was the consensus so we started back to the van, just as the fireworks began. Then to find out that I half of my children are terrified of fireworks at close range. They claimed post-traumatic stress syndrome from living with haphazard Beijing local Chinese New Year pyrotechnics. We tried to explain that there was surely more mathematical calculation involved with these, to no avail. So my kids don't all have my carnival loving, firework loving, crowd loving gene. The things I impose upon my children.