Happy Birthday, Cinderella

My baby is 5 now. Fully fledged five, happily going to kindergarten, riding the bus, planning her life. When asked what she wants to be when she grows up, her first answer is still "Tinkerbell, because then I can fly". But now she has also added "Policeman" and "President" and "A Mom, so I can tell everybody what to do." (Ha.)

Her dalmation-princess birthday party was a success - it was beautiful weather, so we opened up the pool and that takes a lot of game-playing pressure off of me. Although we did still hunt for plastic bones in the yard, play pin-the-tail and the spot on the dalmation, and musical dog-dishes. Granny made a terrific chocolate and vanilla cake with white icing and chocolate chip spots, and we had our dalmation pinata. She LOVED all her presents, especially the dalmation Webkinz, the Little Mermaid styling head, and all the Barbies. She's been playing with her new toys all weekend, and there wasn't one that she seemed disappointed in, with the exception of the socks and underwear given to her by us. Although, it was Hannah Montana underwear and that was pretty cool.

She's headstrong, this five year old. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it. I taught her the word kleptomaniac this weekend, because we always know to look somewhere in her room when we're missing a hairbrush, or a mirror, or a flashlight, or the kitchen timer. She's like a magpie - feathering her nest with shiny things that catch her fancy. She's volatile - either joyfully buzzing around the room with shiny accessories flashing, or bursting into tears because we've asked her to eat her waffle. Not many shades of gray with her. Only the new hairs that sprout on my head after each confrontation.


I'm so grateful to have this healthy, happy, spark in our lives. She keeps us laughing, and dancing, and always hopping to stay ahead of her.

Happy birthday, Cinderella.