Birthday number three treated your intrepid mini-blogger quite well, materialistically speaking. Before the celebrations started, mom sat down to prep me on how to react when someone gives you a present. The conversation went like this:
Mom: We have to make sure we say thank you no matter what present we get. So what do we say when someone gives you, let's say, a truck?
Me: Thank you for the truck.
Mom: Good. OK, now what do we say if someone gives you socks?
Me: No thank you!
Mom: (bursts out laughing)
Luckily, I never had to lay the smack down, since all of my presents were freakin' sweet (and essential). I now have enough Thomas The Tank Engine paraphernalia to keep the economy of the small island nation of Sodor rolling well into the 25th century. I also got several excellent puzzles of the United States. So far I've managed to keep track of all of them except Oregon. Sorry, Oregon. You're somewhere under my bed or in the laundry hamper. (As an aside, I've moved on from just identifying the states to knowing trivia questions like which states are the smallest and biggest, which oceans border which states, and which states are home to which relatives.)

Yew Nork was the tastiest of the United States of Eli.
(As a second aside, if I didn't mention your present, it's not because I didn't like it. Unless you got me socks and they're still in the mail.)

As promised, here is the 4-1-1 on the hot birthday parties that you missed:

The Mom's Club Party
This one had it all. Kids. Food. A pinata shaped like Thomas the Tank Engine. Nicole Richie and Taye Diggs RSVP'd, but they had to call at the last minute to cancel. So it was a little low on the star wattage, but more than compensated for by the DJ (mom did the mixing).

Please, God, let it be filled with more trains...

The Family Party
This would have been the party to attend if you were looking for a more low-key affair and happened to be an immediate blood relative who lived within two hours of me.

Luckily, Mom tells me I'm only half related to these people.

The Neighborhood Party
Probably the most exclusive party of all. If you weren't from my 'hood... if you didn't wear the right colors... if you didn't flash the right signs... the bouncer saw you to the door.

This is the Burnet Kommons Krew, practicing our tags before we hit the streetz.

It was a long weekend, and by the end of it I was pretty beat:

OK, one more picture for the road. As you can see, we love Dora. Especially Dad.

I told dad to photoshop away the Tootsie Roll residue streaming out of my mouth in the original picture-- I hope he listened to me and did my bidding.