a peek inside the fishbowl

It was pre-coffee. Mark misspoke and said “Easter Buggy” instead of “Easter Bunny.” We split our sides laughing, imagining the Easter Roach crawling around the house – antenna, creepy stick-like legs and all – hiding egg-shaped balls of poop on the mantel and behind the pillows on the couch.

Dear Sarah,

This was you when you were a baby:

… and this was you this morning:

It’s been our tradition to serve a special birthday breakfast in bed. So this morning, at your request, you had a freshly-baked croissant, breakfast sausages, yogurt, and hot chocolate.

(I hope you always remember that I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. so I could take the croissants out of the freezer and give them sufficient time to defrost and rise before I got up a second time at 7:00 to bake them and make your breakfast.)

You’ve already opened your new Junior Scientist-style microscope and we’ve all looked at strands of our hair, the exoskeleton of an ant, and compared grains of table salt and sea salt. Your father is about to prick himself with a sewing needle so he can look at his own blood.

You and your sister are playing with the Playmobil guinea pigs she gave you. (The joke here is that you’re highly allergic to guinea pigs in real life and it makes you a bit sad knowing you’ll never be able to hold a guinea pig without breaking out in itchy hives.)

Sarah, you are a great girl. You have a wonderful sense of humour and you are a true friend of friends. You have a big big heart. You love to kiss and cuddle (although not so much with your sister) which is great because you are highly huggable. You don’t like to get out of bed in the morning. (In fact, I am your personal alarm clock. It takes a lot of hugging and kissing and prodding to get you out from under the covers.) You love to sing. You love to read, and you’re immensely proud of your goal to read every Beverly Cleary book at home and at school. Your creativity is a constant source of delight and amazement. Yesterday you made yourself an Easter basket out of an orange juice carton and some felt, and this year you achieved your lifelong dream of having a piece of your artwork displayed at the National Gallery. And if early results are any indication it looks like you’re going to be good in math too (you must get that from your GrandPapa). 

Sarah, I wanted you to know that our lives are miles better simply because you are in it, and I hope you always know that. Thank you for being such a honey of a girl.

p.s. Daddy was slightly sorry that you were born on Masters weekend, but I think you’ve made up for it in spades.

Sarah’s birthday went off without a hitch.

Here’s the cake I made:

I like to call it: Springtime in Ottawa. Tulips behind a picket fence, worms half-hidden under loose dirt, and grass mixed with frost. (A common sight around these parts.)

The party itself was a little crazy. Our place is pretty small, and when it gets overrun with small people it feels even smaller. Let’s say I have a keen understanding of why some parents choose off-site parties. I am glad we planned the party around dinner and a movie. Sarah chose Spirited Away, one of our favorite Miyazaki films. The girls were absolutely hypnotized by the movie… (for the entire 125 minutes!).

As always, I realize that my enjoyment of the planning of said party is almost equal to how happy I am when it’s over and everyone goes home. :)

The girls are eating cake as I type, and I’m mentally preparing myself for a day of yard work and giving the back porch a good spring cleaning.