Dylan is eleven continued....

So while I was creating a new room for Dylan, hubby took him and a few of his friends paint balling.  

They had a blast.  Who doesn't want to shoot at each other and get giant welts and bleed and hide for your life?  I'm imagining it was pretty much the hunger games for three hours.  

Pretending to do Dylan's hair like girls do at slumber parties.

 Then hubby had to walk in and act like he was going to, um, pass gas on Dylan's head and then proceeded to nab all their candy.  

I'm honestly surprised they didn't go into a sugar coma.  But they didn't.  So I made them waffles the next day.  With lots of syrup.  And then they finished off the hot cheetos.

Birthday's rock.