So, here goes.
S's birthday was a hit. She had a great, great time at her party. Everyone followed the rules for dressing fancy posh, and that was hysterical. My little brother was especially fancy in one of M's grandfather's ruffled tux shirts. The garbage chic decorations were good. The cupcakes in their throw-away wrappers were good. (So good that S is still begging for them, though she really only wants frosting.) The menu of S's favorite foods was a hit: chicken tenders, french fries, fruit, and pancakes...and chocolate milk. S particularly enjoyed the piles of strawberries, and she had so much strawberry juice staining her face that she looks like she has some sort of wicked rash in most of the photos.
The best part was singing Happy Birthday. S's whole face lit up like mine would if I opened the door and George Clooney was standing there. She loved it. Then, I had my John G. Roberts moment. I was trying to show her how to blow out the candles on her cupcake, and I accidentally blew them out. She looked quite upset, so we had to do it again.
She got way too many presents, and they are all wonderful and very loved. The new books are being worked into the rotation nicely. We're working on teaching her how to use the pedals on her new tricycle. She's introducing all of her stuffed animals and dolls to her new dollhouse. It's insanity around here, but it's great. We are really, really fortunate to have such generous and thoughtful people in our lives.
Here are the pics for those of you who weren't already exposed to them on facebook. Also, we're headed to the pediatrician this morning for the two year check-up. I am dying to find out how tall this kid is. I'll let you know.