You say it's your birthday

Yesterday was Brody's third birthday. The big 0-3. We decided to get him a neat-o sand table with which he can have all the construction-themed adventures he wants.

He loves digging and scooping, and now that it's almost summer, it's the perfect outside toy.

So before all the birthday revelry began, I put together the table on the back patio -- while it was raining. In May. In California. But did the rain get Brody the Builder down? Heck no. That's all he wanted to do -- just dig in the sand, wearing his hard hat.


Then he took a break.


"It's raining!"

If he could've, he would have probably stayed outside playing in the sand all day. But we're mean parents, and we made him come inside to open presents and stuff like that.

And unless the present in question had wheels, he wasn't interested. Unless it was a book about trucks with wheels. That was okay.

I think next year he might have more of an idea of what's going on. Heck, next year he might even try some ice cream cake, which he typically refuses the way most people react to rat poison or "Xanadu."

Still, it was nice to have the family over for Brody's birthday.

Even my brother.

I guess.