This weekend was all about the numbers.
4 The new age of my youngest child, who celebrated with Lucky Charms for breakfast, pizza for dinner, and SpongeBob cake for dessert. It was also a rare opportunity for him to be sole proprietor of the Center of Attention. Good day for him.
3 The age my youngest child insists he is. No amount of cajoling or bribery has convinced him otherwise. He's in total denial.
70 My dad's new age, as of February this year. Unlike my little guy, he admits to it.
30 The number of years he and my beloved step-mom have been married.
Together, those two numbers add up to 100, a good, round number and a phenomenal excuse to host a family reunion.
At the reunion this weekend, representing both sides of the family: 14 aunts and uncles (including my folks), 11 first cousins & their spouses, my 3 kids, and 7 significant others and treasured family friends. That's 35 members of our clan gathered in one place, at one time. (And given the high proportion of math geeks in that crew, I'd darn well better have gotten those numbers right.)
3 generations attending. We represent states from Alaska to Massachusetts. We were born all over the world, from Indonesia to Washington, D.C., from Bangkok to Toledo. And we were born in every decade straight through from the 1930s to the 2000s. Except for the 1970s. Slow time for us, I guess.
And the reason why this was such a big, huge deal?
52. That, my friends, is the number of years that have passed since my father, his sister, and their three brothers have been in the same room together. 52. Five full decades. And then some.
This reunion, it was a bit of history in the making.
0 The number of times I put my kids in time-out, took away privileges or even got stern with them during two full days of reunion events. Yes, they were that amazingly good.
I'm a very proud mom. Though it's kinda cool to also be a proud daughter, sister, cousin and niece.
My family rocks.