Birthday fever

When I say fever I don't mean the John Travolta kind of fever...
I mean the 104 degrees, crying and coughing-all-night kind of fever.

Poor Jackson spent his birthday feeling rotten.
We did our best to cheer him up but even zebra striped cake with chocolate butter-cream frosting didn't do the trick. Poor baby.

I love birthdays because they remind me to remember some of the best moments of my life. Jackson's birth was almost magical. I just re-read all about it. Jackson didn't cry until he was five days old and he has continued to be easy going and super snugly. We love him to death.  Now if we can just keep ourselves from spoiling him rotten!