September 11. A sad day for our nation. A happy day in our home. My girl was born on September 11, 2003. What a special day.
A had a pretty big b-day party when she was one. You know the kind. You invite pretty much everybody you know and the b-day baby doesn't really have a clue. Then for b-day number 2, we had another big party. (A initially had surgery scheduled in October, 2005, so I felt like she needed a big ol' blowout. That surgery was cancelled, by the way.)
Well #3 rolls around, and A decides she doesn't want a party. At all. Doesn't even want Grandmommy and Granddaddy to come over. Only wants to go to Chuck E Cheese. Doesn't want anyone to tell her Happy Birthday, and God-forbid if we sing her a song. So that's what we do.
2007 is #4. I'm hoping we'll get some kind of party out of her. Something. She does finally agree to having G'mommy, G'daddy and Cousin Sami come over. She goes with me to W*l-mart to pick out her cake. I just knew it would have a princess or Dora on it.
Nope. She picks out a little doggy cake. I mean really little. Like, it was made out of 2 cupcakes and icing. Very, very, very cute. But not quite large enough to feed a party of 10.
But it was her day, so her choice. (I did grab another pre-made cake for those of us less fortunate ones who can't eat the doggy cake.)
I bring home the doggy cake, and the first thing G says is:
G - What's that?
me - A's birthday cake.
G - Birthday cake? That's not a birthday cake. That's a cake topper.
So, so funny. I love that boy. He's so quick-witted. And it was. A cake topper.
Oh, and the other thing that the Queen of the house insisted upon was that she didn't want to turn 4. She wanted to remain 3. So we compromised, and decided that she could be 3+1. Duh, but it worked. And she remained 3+1 for many months until apparently 4 was acceptable to her. That girl. She's really not spoiled. She just has my heart wrapped around her curvy little spine.