I spent all morning making stupid fondant roses and within ten minutes the starving horde of eight-year-olds had reduced the cake to this:
Arabella’s birthday was pretty low-key. I don’t remember the last time I had a child whose birthday has fallen on a Saturday. That meant Mister was around to take the birthday girl out for a breakfast date. Then we had a party at Michael’s (which is not very expensive as far as kids parties go.) All kids like crafts, so it was a big hit, especially considering I planned the party three days in advance (such a procrastinator, I know.)
You would think a bike would be the most popular present of the day. You would be wrong. Arabella rode it around the cul-de-sac once and came in the house crying that it’s “too big and scary”. We just barely taught her to ride a two-wheeler a month ago, so I guess I shouldn’t be suprised. Still, that wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for.
Yes, 480 pieces of body art. Ooookay. Now Arabella will be able to open that tattoo parlor she’s been dreaming about. Hopefully it’s the one present Jasper will manage to destroy.
Apparently I overdosed on homemakerness this week between Enrichment (teaching 20 women to make aprons. Fun but stressful. Mostly stressful. I don’t want to cut out fabric again for a very long time.) and birthday festivities (including the treat I made for Bella’s class–the infamous “cookie cake”)
I came home from the birthday party and fell asleep for two hours. Turns out I had a fever and couldn’t even manage to make Arabella’s birthday dinner. (Eggs and toast. Seriously. That is what she requested. Strange, strange girl.)
(No other symptoms so I don’t want to hear about infecting a bunch of little girls with Swine Flu, OK?)