Ryan had a birthday. He's 29 years old, and you better believe I made him death by chocolate peanut butter cup cupcakes AND strawberry shortcake cupcakes . . . just because I couldn't decide, and I know he always chooses one or the other when his birthday comes around. We went out to a ridiculously expensive steak house that's brand new and pretty much just across the street from our house. We would never have made it back there even if it blew our socks off, but unfortunately, it didn't. The other thing he wanted for his birthday was to go to the temple. So we asked Katie & Josh to watch the kids, got up early, and drove into Manhattan. When we got there we found out it was closed for cleaning. Hmmm.
Happy Birthday Ryan! We sure do love you.