Birthday parties, smirthday parties.

Hell, I guess I should just be thankful that it wasn’t quite as painful as the c-section, right?

We made Birthday Cake Cones. I thought they’d be less messy than regular cake… Man, I hate being wrong.

She blew/spit/hummed each and every one of her candles… There were six. And, yes, I know that she’s only two, but the rest of the cupcakes looked naked.  And this was a g-rated party. (I don’t post pictures of the ones that aren’t… Red tape, don’t ‘ya know.)

It took a while on that last one… She focused so hard on it at one point, her eyes were crossed. But she was actually miraculously sitting still, so I took the picture anyhow.

And then she proceeded to lick the top of every one.

It was a messy, loud, and sugary affair that had me digging through the medicine cabinet on the off-chance that the happy gods took pity on me and left me a ten gallon drum of Quaaludes. 

Next year, I’ll pray harder.