Eight years of little girl giggles and messes. Eight years of wondering if I'm doing this right, while feeling sure that I'm not. Eight years of absolute certainty that whether I get it right or not, these two little beans are the best things I'll ever do.
Two weeks ago, on a day off from school, I suggested we take a girls trip to a local bakery and then the library. I can't decide which made me happier: their squeals of delight at the idea of spending time with me or their insistence that for such an important occasion only their favorite dresses would do--dresses I made them, but which my daughters treat like haute couture.
And then on Monday this week, the eldest decided it would be totally reasonable to turn eleven. Eleven, I tell you!
So we threw her a little "cozy crafting party" with five of her best friends. I'm not sure I recommend teaching a bunch of fifth graders how to hand sew a stuffed mouse, but the stamped journals and the pressed flowers luminaries and the beaded sun catchers went off without a hitch.
And as I discovered on her second birthday, after I toiled away at a five-layer rainbow cake that she utterly detested, Susan is still not a fan of cake. Donuts, on the other hand, are perfectly acceptable.
Nota bene: Susan is worried that the tooth fairy might be overworked. Have you ever lost a tooth and then been so worried the tooth fairy won't see it that you stage an elaborate lighting set-up for it? No? Just Susan things, then.
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