It’s my birthday tomorrow and I’m going to be (gulp) 37 years old. My day now marks the start of birthday season in this house, as my husband’s birthday is a week after mine, and our son’s a week after that. Without sounding like a bitter old hag, this means 28 March has become more of a starter to first born’s main course – with his dad’s birthday being the kind of palate cleanser in between. But at least I get a reminder of how exciting birthdays are when you’re coming up to five. This year, he’s made me a ‘birthday ticket’, to hand out to loved ones so they know exactly what I would like. Don’t worry, if you can’t read the writing there are pictures there to help. Now all I have to do is dream…
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