Momnesia

The coaches laugh at the chaos they have wrought.

Emerson tries her hand at b-ballin'.

Go West, young man. Then catch the dang ball.

The pre-cake chaos.

Tackling the competition.

Poor Rachel had broken her right arm a couple of weeks before.

This seems like an unfair matchup.

My sister blows.

Laughing at something on the Disney Channel. Nothing on that channel is funny,

but when you're 10 years old, I guess you don't know.

Pretty portrait of a mom and her daughter.

Dangit. My shoe done broke.

My little desperate housewife.

Birthday cake: Emmie's entire reason for being.
Some people live for world peace. Others for art or music.
Emmie lives for confectionery goods.

Jazz hands! Dude, that's backward.

"And that's why your mother is crazy, Emmie."

Did I mention that my sister blows?

Some running with a side of tackling. Yawn.

I am a television zombie...

J.D. gives instructions to the birthday boy.

I don't know what they talk about on the field.
I'd just say something like,
"Okay, throw the ball in that direction, and maybe one of our guys can catch it, okay?"

J.D. tries to tell his youngest son that he loves him,
but Jackson cannot be dissuaded from
grumping around because it's not his birthday, too.

The birthday boy deminstrates excellent manners.

Right upside his brother's head.
You guys, this child got more money in one hour than I make in a day.

More tackling. Ho-hum.

Yay! Cake!

Cake on the back deck.

Emmie went on a hunger strike until she got her cake.
Seriously. She refused to eat anything.

Lounging around. Pretty sure she was just flat out bored.

It seems we've switched to volleyball.

Little girls and telephones. The attraction never ceases.

Post-cake sugar rush!

I want presents!