My girl. She's 2.
Last year we threw a party for her, but not really. We threw it for us. We wanted to celebrate her before she really had the capacity to celebrate herself. It was great - our friends came, we ate cake, E loved playing with her gifts, and I've almost blocked out the sugar-induced tantrum at bedtime.
This year I can honestly say that this one's for her. Last year I was obsessed with what food to serve and if there would be enough chairs and getting all of the decorations in place. But all I could think about last night was her face when she woke up this morning. Would she know already? Would I have to remind her? Would she ask to open presents or eat cupcakes first? I haven't really spent much time on putting together a fancy do, because I know that she could care less about that. She wants cupcakes and balloons. She wants to share her cupcakes with her friends. She wants to open the presents that she's been moving around the apartment all week. And she's going to get all of that.
I did some cleaning, I did quite a bit of cupcake-making, and a little wrapping. But mostly I spent my time working myself into a birthday tizzy alongside my little monkeypants. And today I'm just enjoying. It's a full day, with Anabelle to look after, a playdate to take up our morning, yoga in the afternoon and a party tonight, but I'm going to go about it with one agenda: fun. Because that, my friends, is what it's all about.
Happy, Happy Birthday to my precious girl. Life is sweeter with you in it. And not just because I have frosting on my fingers.
An early morning wake-up from Da-da before he left for work:
Birthday kisses from Ralph:
Some pre-breakfast present opening: