On Sunday I forgot to wish Oupa a happy birthday. Oupa, if you don't know, means grandpa, and I'm so happy my dad is letting the boys call him that. I called both my sets of grandparents Ouma and Oupa and it has those feel-good memories attached. Oupa is a sometimes quiet, sometimes chatty but always thoughtful and funny guy who notices way more than he usually lets on, and always, always has a soft heart. And to be honest, is sometimes a lot more insightful that we give the old man credit for. But dont anyone tell him I said that, k? And if I can just get him to stop pretending to pop out his fake teeth in front of the kids to freak them out life would be good. Happy belated birthday, Oupa! Or Dad. Or Pappa, when I really want something. We love you. This picture is a few years old, but other than losing a few hairs, he looks the same. Cole looks totally different, having finally gained some hair.
As I type this, though, Oupa sits with the other half of Team Maternal Grandparents on a plane to Brussells**, for its their anniversary today! Whoooo! Happy anniversary and enjoy your trip.
Nana is not going to appreciate me posting this picture of them in their jammies, but hey, they're on an airplane over the Atlantic. Mwahahahahaha.
** I want chocolate.
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