So, I'm 37. My birthday ended with Delma housing a cupcake (that she frosted and then decorated by herself with almost an entire bottle of star sprinkles), a Lindt dark chocolate truffle (that I only gave her because I thought for sure she'd hate it and spit it out), and most of my piece of chocolate cake (that I was too busy chatting with my dad to notice she was inhaling). She then spent over and hour and a half past bedtime singing and hooting and chatting to herself in bed before finally passing out. That girl can really rock.
Delly has a habit of saying "my" instead of "I." Like, "1,2,3 here my come!" Or, "Oooh, my like that!" In honor of her unique grammar and rock star lifestyle, Josh doctored a photo of Delly as a b-day gift for me:
Perfect. 37, here my come!