Year of writing 76. The birthday party

3/17/12

Today was Isla's birthday party.  It started out with a 102 fever last night, we won't tell anybody though.  She was still so excited that she kept waking up saying, "I have to get my rest for my party tomorrow," as if the paranoia of being too tired to enjoy the festivities was keeping her up... obsession, anyone?  Anyway, she's up, we showed the house to some prospective buyers, and made a grip of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bought some Guinness for the party (it IS St. Patrick's Day for goodness sake), and we were out to the tumbling spot. 













Now Miss Ruby's is exactly what it looks like up there - a small room with some ladders and gym mats.  This however, equals preschool awesomeness, because from the second she got there (and everyone else), they were jumping, leaping, rolling, and caterwauling like the WWF of old. 


We had the place for 2 hours, and it was completely filled with said activities. My favorite was the red wedge mat that kids could dive into a forward roll on without knowing what that is.  It's physics, yall.

 

 

One of the girls at the party was a pro, even showed up with a gymnastics leotard, to the envy of everybody there.  Note to self:  bring several outfit changes to next birthday party.  Isla sulked for a minute, but was distracted by the opening of a small room with a giant trampoline.  After all of the physical activity came cake time.  The Darth Vader cake was presented with much aplomb, candles were doused, and frosting consumption ensued.

Soon after, the sugar rush, combined with the fever and the entrance of this guy ------------------------------------------------------>
coalesced into a meltdown of birthday girl proportions.  It's ok, though, it's her party - she can cry... you know the rest.








After the party, we gathered up the loot (and leftover Guinness, thank you very much) and headed back home for prezzies.  Isla made out like a bandit once more - with tons of gifts from all her awesome friends.  (yes, that's a Darth Vader balloon too! So proud)















There were puzzles and crafts and binoculars and unicorns and magic wands and clear heels and... hold up.  What?  Clear heels?  Oh no, some unwitting parent (must have been the parent of a boy) got my girl CLEAR HEELS?  Great.  Now she's gonna name herself Courvasier ... I can't deal with this.

Well, Ok, they are Belle shoes, although Belle would never EVER endorse such a travesty. She was beautiful and BOOKISH - the exact thing my little princess will be.  Clear heels, COME ON.








 Luckily, my concern was staved off by her insistence on wearing a fake mustache for dinner. (please note the red smear of frosting on her cheek - which I am pretty sure is still there as I write this).

Happy Birthday party, my little moustachioed belle.  I can't wait until Wednesday when I get to unleash the cavalcade of StarWars toys upon your completely unprepared princesses and barbies. 

I love you, and no, you may not wear your clear heels to day care.  Sorry.