The Party Proper

I have no pictures of Millie's birthday breakfast or birthday supper.  How did this happen?!  I have failed. (Breakfast: apple-cinnamon-caramel baked French toast and BACON.  Supper: Venison and garden veggie tacos.  Plus, she blew out a candle.  There, now you haven't missed a thing.)

Millie wanted a horse barn cake this year and, after having tasted them for the first time on Susie's house cake, she expressly asked for wafer cookies to coat the sides. She wanted Necco wafers for the roof, too, no question.

I was happy to oblige because it made frosting the thing a cinch!  (As tempted as you may be to eat that pathway, don't.  It's paved with leftover fish tank rocks we bought at the dollar store, and not with superior Nerds.)

All you manly readers, quit scoffing at a pink horse barn.  They can too be pink!

Also per Mildred's request, we ate outside under the cherry tree.

Mildred didn't request Pippi to monopolize all the pictures, but Pip did, anyway, out of the goodness of her heart.  (Also, Millie requested birch beer.  That's birch beer-- birch-- by her elbow, people.)

Poof!  And then she was twelve.  She grows and grows, and I see glimmers of the young lady she's becoming as she continues to gently slip out of little girlhood.  Sigh.  Not too fast, though, thank goodness...

We love you, sweet Bumpkin.  To Malacandra and back!