Fusion

You can click on the following letter to make it bigger if you like. It is Rebekah's acceptance letter (last name and address redacted to protect the innocent) to the Academy of Science, a public high school that requires an extensive application, essays, etc. Many are called; few are chosen. Aubrey goes there too.






We jumped around and hollered and celebrated at IHOP. She is very happy, see?:

Aubrey got her driver's permit. She begs to drive all the time. She drives us everywhere. I have to sit in the back seat for the first time ever in my own car. Here she is outside the DMV before we went in to get said permit. Note her extreme reluctance to have her picture taken. While in the DMV she repeatedly pointed out that we would be one place further ahead in line if I hadn't insisted on taking the picture for posterity.

Here is where we hid the eggs this year: in my hair.

I mentioned in an earlier post that Rebekah announced her chorus's performance for the crowd. Look very closely; that is her in front of the piano.

And here is the cake Rebekah made and gleefully wrecked in the process. It is for no occasion whatsoever except that she felt like it. She even bought these black polkadotted and striped candles for herself so she could blow them out. It was darn tasty.