My man turned 25 last week.
He's practically almost dead.
So, to celebrate...
Naturally we had to have a cherry limeade.
If you know Phil, you know this.
Yes, we did have pizza two days before this.
But LOOK AT THOSE PEPPERONIES!!
Yes, he did burn his fingers.
All for the sake of a photo for a blog post.
This man loves me.
We have so many good friends!
Funfetti frosting=a must.
Twenty five years. I can't wait for the day when we can say we've been together longer than we've been apart. I can't wait to see how this man handles his mid-life crisis. There's sure to be a sports car involved. I can't wait to see his face when he sees our first baby for the first time (no, we're not pregnant). I can't wait to see his face when our son scores his first soccer goal. I can't wait to watch him wrestle with the boys on the floor. I can't wait to watch him kiss our daughters good night. I can't wait to send him off home teaching with our son. I can't wait to see his face the first time he steps out of a sports car he just drove. I can't wait to see him send our first daughter off on a date. I can't wait to watch him try to be intimidating to that poor young man. I can't wait to watch him try to be intimidating to a returned missionary asking him to marry that daughter.I can't wait to see his face turn wrinkly. I can't wait to see his face when he looks at me and tells me my face isn't wrinkly, and I don't need surgery. I can't wait to hold his hand walking through the mall when we're ninety.
I love you baby.