This year, I turned thirty. And you know what? I am really happy about that. I feel like I have been doing "thirties" stuff for a long time and that I have totally earned the official promotion. I'm thirty. It sounds a lot more mature than twenty-nine. Although, I'm not sure how "mature" it is to worry about how mature you sound. And right on the tails of my big 3 - 0, Carl turned 7. The jump from six to seven seems almost as huge to me as the jump between twenty and thirty. Seven is approaching big kid territory--and Carl is totally ready for that. He's learned so much in the past year. He can now do chores without being reminded, read, carry his youngest brother, make meals, and drum up his own neighborhood playmates. This year, he made the transition from being a fully dependent member of our household to being a very helpful contributor. It's awesome. To celebrate: 1. His Grandma, Grandpa, and Mother Johnson all came