stgulik

After my daughter's Harry Potter-theme birthday party, I no longer have any doubt that Lord Voldemort could be defeated by a bunch of teens.


Two girls made the authentic Hagrid cake. isn't it impressive? The day before, they actually argued over the exact shade of pink to make the frosting. Ravenclaws! Am I right?

So, we played three games.
( Read more... )


(Thank you, magicalpresence, for the pic of your cute "What would Severus do?" pin. As you can see, it's my new icon!)

It's my little brother's birthday. Facebook said so; it must be true. Though, to be fair to my amazing cognitive functions, I've remembered the date quite easily my whole life, even before the machines took over in 1996 and became our silicon minders.

Where was I? Oh, yes, Facebook. Facebook invited me to comment on my brother's "wall," so I wrote,

"Whoa, whoa, wait - did MOM authorize you to have this birthday? Better check."

Because when we were very young, our mother had the POWER* to withhold the privilege of turning one year older, if we were not very good on or near our birthdays. If we misbehaved, she was known to point a crooked finger and declare, "That's it - you're not turning ten on Tuesday. You have to stay nine for another year. Now off to bed."

Then the trick was to try and make her change her mind before the next Tuesday, and let her deviant child turn another year older.

When we were very young, this was a serious threat.

When we turned, oh, ten? we felt we knew how things stood.

Now that I'm older than dirt, I wish I had that power myself!

*She is clearly imbued with this amazing POWER. In the whole time I've known her, she's never copped to being older than 39. Q.E.D.