Let's be real. Part of the appeal of a cowboy party? It's easy. Franks, throwaway tin pans, plaid shirts, a pile of ten gallon hats. Done. The other appeal? The ridiculous adorability of a three year old in a cowboy hat. Like, such as, see above. And also see below for more of the cow/birthday boy and his down home celebration.
We had fun. The boy had fun. He had all the people he loves most packed into his house, a pile of thoughtful gifts, and free reign of the food table. So of course, he passed up the whole wheat pb&js and stuffed his face with potato chips and franks and cake. And then also twenty pieces of candy from the cowboy boot pinata. And then, superbigsurprise, he woke up five times last night dry heaving and complaining of a stomach ache. Yee haw!
So now, he's three. And a calmer week lies ahead. Which we kicked off with the very best kind of late September Sunday - sweatpants, football (WIN!), and a steady, chilly rain giving us an excuse not to budge from the cozy house. Hellllooooo, fall.