Yes, I’m 40.
Officially, as of four days ago. And I didn’t self-destruct. The world didn’t end. My hair didn’t instantly go completely grey.
Apparently, 40 is the new 30.
And hey, the gifts are WAY better!
Diva Hubby woke me up with a beautiful bouquet of roses, a sweet card and an iTunes gift card (I do love my music!).
The other part of my gift was a fabulous date night out at Hollywood Blvd. Theatre–sans children!
My biggest surprise, though, came from my little brother. He arranged for me to get balloons and flowers at work.
Lots of balloons. Forty large mylar balloons.
And lots of flowers. Forty long-stemmed red roses.
But he wasn’t done.
When I got home, there was a box waiting for me. Before I tell you what was in it, though, let me tell you that when we were kids, we fought.
Like “dogs and cats, living together“. As in “Mom! He’s on MY side of the car! You kids better stop fighting or I’ll turn this car around!” fighting.
We haven’t fought in more than 20 years.
But still. You can imagine my shock when I opened the shipping box to find a large brown box with white trim, tied with a simple red bow, emblazoned with one word.
When I called to thank him, he told me he was pretty sure that I wouldn’t already have a bag like it, and he chose this one because if The Manimal got a hold of markers or crayons, they probably wouldn’t show up on the bag!
I am so lucky.
Lordy, Lordy, so glad I’m forty.