You Say It’s Your Birthday

For the first year, K. had an idea of the significance of her birthday (not that she understands the concept of age, but that she knew that cake and presents and friends coming over were imminent).  She’s been singing, “Hap- birf-day K. dear!” all week long.  This first picture is her requesting cake—shortly after she woke up in the morning. “What?  You would ask for cake for breakfast too.”

Here is the cake I made.  She had a polka-dot birthday party and I got a fun recipe for marshmallow fondant from three of my friends who are more well-versed in cake decorating than me.  I used it for the decorations but used my Grandma’s amazing buttercream recipe for the bulk of the frosting.

“Ooh, cut me a piece of that!” Candles are lit, and the friends that have noticed the presence of food have gathered at the table (the younger ones are still playing). Dad pulls the cake toward K.  She started blowing the moment the candles were lit and puffed through the entire song.“Haaay, I did it!” Gifts were opened and oohed and aahed over. “Open the big one next!” “ ’Scuse me, boys, coming through with another one!” The chaos that is a three-year-old’s birthday party.  We didn’t have any organized games this year—it was essentially a huge playdate with decorations and cake. And K’s cousin (right) and K’s friend S. (left) had matching shirts and coordinating shorts, so we took a picture.  It doesn’t hurt that they’re both super-cute! And a picture of me from the day.