We celebrated Atlee's fifth birthday this weekend. She won't actually be five until tomorrow, but sometimes we can't wait for a good party.
When she's 35 and in therapy, I fully expect her counselor to ask her for more details about the cake from her fifth birthday. "There was an S on it you say." "And the homemade heart shaped cake was broken? Interesting, very interesting."
It might even make it onto Cakewrecks if I'm not careful. Atlee repeatedly assured me that she loved it. In the end, that's the only part that really matters.
[It's not an S, it's a 5.]
She was fiercely excited about a birthday party.
Friends and family and food and cake and balloons and presents. Could you hope for more on your birthday? I think not. Thank you again to everyone for helping to make it a wonderful day for Atlee.
In other news, Greeley seems to have gotten confused by the whole birthday party thing and thinks she turned two.
Most of our conversations seem to go "No!" "Mine!" "Stop!" "Milk!" "Nurse!".
Two is such a pleasant age, isn't it?