Today my impossible dork of a firstborn, who we have nicknamed “Wump” for the purposes of social media, is ten years old.
Last weekend, we were up at the family cottage for midsummer. A few of the adults decided to take a variety of inflatable pool toys and some beers and float out into the middle of the lake to be away from the noisy kids for a little while. Wump got in the fishing boat and rowed out to us because she wanted the same.
When I told her she could have brought more beers out with her, she responded with, “sorry I’m not an alcoholic.”
This is the level of wisenheimer we’re dealing with here.
Here she is at one of her favouritest places in the world, the sushi train in Easton mall. Sunglasses for extra sass, and because it was one of the first times she’s been allowed out of the house since the lockdown in March (and it was dark then).
Here she is in her volunteer firefighter gear.
Here she is with the parents she wants to have but she has me and Mrs. Hatboy instead.
And here she is with her equally dorky little sister Toop, getting ready to win Halloween.
And just in case you thought I was kidding, here she is at the sushi train again.
Happy birthday Wump. I am proud of you to an almost unseemly degree.