"I'm Just So Curious!"

Two weeks to the day after Lu's birthday, a Cuckoo Bird wanted to celebrate her birthday.  I don't know how she built a time machine to turn our plump dumpling of a baby into a nine year-old, but it's clear she did.  NINE.

Susannah asks me regularly if I think she's going to be a philosopher.  (Uncle Joel has placed bets that she will be by the time she's twenty.)  She takes forever and a day to complete most of her chores, usually not because she's lazy, but because she's lost in thought or busy firing a string of strange questions my way. (E.g. "Mama, would you rather be a zebra or a giraffe?" or "What would you do if you had to pick one of us children to never be born?" Ad infinitum.)

Millie made the requested birthday waffles and also outshone any fruit I've given my children by turning all the oranges into orange blossoms.  (Thank you, Little House Book of Crafts.)

You'll notice she still likes to pose.  She had to pretend to blow out the candle before she actually blew out the candle.

Mildred and Susannah wanted to make the birthday cakes and frosting, and I'm not one to say "no" to my children if saying "yes" lightens my load, so make them they did.  (And because Susannah's birthday dinner request is always hamburgers and potato chips, my day was made!)

Before too much time had passed, Zeke entered, dressed for the task and willing to help.

...to help steal from the sugar canister

and to watch for dropped batter.  You know, that sort of help.

I'd just finished the antibiotics I'd started on Lu's birthday, and I was feeling the lingerings of unvanquished mastitis on the morning of Susannah's birthday, so when she asked for a pirate ship cake, I groaned and then spent an hour on the internet showing her dozens of other cakes I thought wouldn't take as much time.

I should have just spent that hour decorating her cake because it was easier than I remember it. I'd forgotten that pirate ship cakes in our house entail slapping dozens of plastic figures on top of a plain-jane boat.  She wanted a blue ship, which meant the water had to be silver, which made for a wacky pirate ship riding through some wacky waves, which was perfect for our wacky, little lass.

(I told Millie and Annika to hold the brown blanket behind the cake not only to provide a plain background but also-- and mostly-- because our kitchen was so piled high with Astounding Mess that I didn't want it documented.  Now you know.)

The ship Susannah Wren.

Those cheerful sails belie the ruffians on board.  It's not enough to make the princess walk the plank, oh no.  One must also point a revolver at her head!

When Su asked me to make an island from the leftover cake pieces, I groaned again, but it ended up being our favorite part of the cake.  My mom had given us a box of graham crackers she wasn't using the week before, and they turned ragamuffin cake pieces into a sandy beach.

Turning nine years old means you must light your own candles, although Annika's cautioning hands are still present.  (Apparently, she didn't quite trust that nine-year old so close to paper sails.)

Poof!

And presents!  Happy, curious Susannah Wren, we love you.