Happy Birthday Halloween Pumpkin...

...to the lay person, the appropriate phrase may be known as "Trick or Treat" or "Happy Halloween" ... but Hailey has been saying it all day long ... "Happy birthday Halloween pumpkin! This is the best Halloween EVER!!!"

As I mentioned before, Hailey was Belle, and she picked Sleeping Beauty for Keelyn. To say Hailey was excited about dressing up would be quite an understatement. Keelyn was really fine either way, so I took full advantage and dolled her up too.This was the first Halloween where Hailey truly got it...and was not too overwhelmed to enjoy it. By the end of the night, she and her friend Kate were walking up to doorsteps and ringing the bells before their daddies were halfway up the driveways behind them. They had a blast filling their bags with candy...which she then ate like a chain smoker on a pack of cigarettes for an hour following our return home. I'm not sure she took a breath in between bites to do anything other than ask if she could have more.

Not a bad first Halloween for Keelyn either. She had a lot of fun watching all the kids, and rode happily in her stroller the whole time. Don't worry. She wasn't left out. I ate lots of chocolate before her bedtime feeding. Halloween candy all around!

Keelyn, Keelyn, Pumpkin Eatin'

Hmm....What's this?

Do I eat it?

Oh, I see, I can play with the squishy stuff.

Ooooh...might I suggest we take this in the kitchen?

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

Hurry up and wait for a whole lot of nothin'

The room was exactly the same. Familiar jackets hung on the wall for us. A technician stood in the back mixing a pink concoction, all too far from appetizing. It's an empty room, mostly. Large with space to move, and one solitary table in the middle. A hard, cold table. A table which I stared at in nervousness for a full hour this morning before meeting it with my baby.

Keelyn's eating habits have followed a similar pattern to Hailey's as a baby. The pattern goes something like this: Nurse a lot, try other foods, cry. Go back to nursing and repeat. For seemingly different reasons from her sister's very obvious reflux and strong aversion to anything other than a breast touching her tongue, Keelyn has had great difficulty learning to eat solids. And by solids, I mean finely pureed fruits and veggies, even diluted with the crowd pleasing, one of a kind, breast milk.

She's excited about food, and she'll put just about anything in her mouth, but on the way down, non-breast milk items seem to bother her.

After trying all the drugs known to fix reflux without any luck, we took her for an upper GI study. Hailey had the same one when she was a baby, so we knew the drill. Same doctor. Same heavy lead coats. Same scary table with a big scary machine to move up and down her body. Same barium to swallow.

Ugh. The barium. And you know what really ticks me off? They try to act like my child is the only child out of all of the children who come in for this study who does not want to drink the barium like it's candy and slap them a high five afterwards for finally introducing her to some real food out of something other than those darn breasts she's so sick of drinking from. Like the other babies drink the stuff and start swinging from the x-ray machines and singing the words to "I Will Survive." Give me a break. It's gross. And it has to be ingested while in the comfort of a cold, hard table.

Anyway, they found nothing. It's good news, really, that despite our pediatrician's slight concern, Keelyn's GI tract is in perfect working order anatomically speaking, and the reflux seems to be just barely present. This by no means explains her strange habits while trying to eat foods for which she starts out excited to eat and ends up in tears after a few bites. But now we can stop worrying. Now I can nurse her all day and know that eventually she'll grow into eating other things. Eventually she will. She's only eight months old, after all. Milk can carry her for a while...and if not, she can live off her thighs.

The rest of the morning was a bit of a bummer. I got the kids up and all bundled this morning, prepared for some time outside. I packed a lighter version of the diaper bag. I was being optimistic about the timing of everything, making plans based on a speedy visit to the hospital...but I had to go. I had to take my babies to witness a part of history. Obama was here today, speaking to a crowd that turned out to be more than 20,000 supporters. I wanted to be there.

We showed up on time to Keelyn's appointment after rushing through our morning and out the door with everything we needed. An hour and a half later, the doctor showed up to see her. I sat there in that cold, sterile room, feeling the weight of that heavy lead jacket on my heart as the clock ticked on, and I knew we weren't going to make it. It took a very long time this morning to find a whole lot of nothing. By the time we left the hospital, nearly three hours later, it was clear it was a lost opportunity. I was more than disappointed. I know he didn't say anything I haven't heard him say before. I know it would have been difficult to get my kids down the blocks we'd have to walk from our car to the rally. But I wanted to feel this piece of our history.

Now I know there are a fair number of people who read this blog who feel very differently than I about the issues at stake in this election. It is for this reason that I rarely discuss politics. I appreciate intellectual opinions on both sides of the aisle, and recognize that each has merit, or it would not exist. I personally identify with Obama's ideals, but feel I should limit what I say if for no other reason than that there is no way I can possibly express how passionately I feel about this subject and WHY in one blog entry...nor can I do so without possibly offending some readers who happen to be dear friends of mine despite our differing political views.

Besides, this blog is supposed to be about my girls. I guess I feel like their lives could be so heavily impacted by our next president, that making a political statement here really is about my girls. So I'll just say that I'm so happy to live in a country where we're allowed to have different views...where a black man with an unfortunate middle name (as far as presidential candidacy is concerned) can become who Obama is, regardless of whether or not he wins...where the promise of good health might actually be offered to those individuals with less money than us, but who are just as much entitled to the promises of the constitution such as Life, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness...where my daughters can grow up to truly know equal rights...and where there is HOPE that eventually all people, of all color, all race, all religion, all beliefs, and all definitions of happiness, are able to enjoy the same opportunities.

So we packed, and we waited, and it took our whole morning. We missed Obama, but we'll live. We are so grateful that Keelyn is healthy and strong. I'm asking you...reminding you...encouraging you...in honor of our healthy, strong children, and the country we want them to love living in...please consider the choice before you, and GO VOTE, no matter who for.

It doesn't get much cuter than this, people.

Halloween party at ballet class.

Really, really cute. Apparently being a three year old girl equals some sort of tutu or dress for Halloween.

Also, the little one in white next to Hailey is her new friend Spencer. They are a little obsessed with each other. That's cute even on the days when they aren't dressed like little princesses. I am so in love with watching her become a little person...dancing around...making friends all by herself...learning to be confident...and having so much fun!

My kind of bribery

I don't know if we are alone in this, but we have found the perfect way to use bribery to encourage Hailey to eat her veggies. Proper bowel function. That's right.

This was an accidental finding, really. Hailey was having a little trouble going, which happened to be the day after an evening of veggie battles. I mentioned that if she'd eaten her veggies, she might be feeling better, because Mommy and Daddy give her healthy foods to eat so that her body works properly.

Apparently...and for the first time ever...logic worked. Plain old, we do this because it causes that, LOGIC. She got it. She remembered it. She applied it.

Now I don't want to wrongfully represent her. She eats way more fruits and veggies than your average three year old. Most of the time, it's not an issue. But lately, I think it's more about control than food selection. So I gave her the control. It's a simple decision she has before her really. Eat the green veggies, and enjoy pooping with ease. Refuse them, and the only person to suffer is her.

There must be other places in her life I can apply such tactics.

Regardless, it works. You may bribe your kids with candy. I bribe mine with poop.

The Fair

For as long as we've known each other, Andrew and I have shared a birthday. Actually, we've shared a birthday since the day I was born, but we didn't care so much back then. Anyway, our first date was on our birthday, 8 years ago. It happens to be today.

It's interesting how much your perspective on a birthday can change from year to year. It becomes so much less about hoopla and gifts, and so much more about just being happy with life, and the place we find ourselves on that day. Since our last birthday, we've welcomed another baby into our lives, and we've watched Hailey grow tremendously. A year can bring so much in such a short time. As I inch closer to 30, I feel a little more comfortable in my skin...a little more comfortable being who I am and sharing that with others...I see the importance more of surrounding myself with people who are good people and who love us and our kids...I guess I feel a little more like an adult.

The day is only half way over, but I think it's safe to say it's my favorite we've had in a while. Andrew gave me the best birthday present I could have asked for: he took the day off of work so we could all spend the day together. Since the fair is in town this week, we spent the morning visiting with cows and eating funnel cake.

I got to enjoy the warmth of Keelyn snuggled up with me and catching scenery and a nap...
...while Hailey got to play games and feel the wind in her hair...all from the comfort of Daddy's lap. And now, it would be family nap time.

The front page of the Washington Post

This is just too cool. My amazing brother, Cooper Swanson, is featured in a story about the Peace Corps on the front page of today's Post. The nationally distributed, straight from the Capitol, Washington Post!!

He became a Peace Corps volunteer two years ago, and has made news because the United States pulled the Peace Corps program from Bolivia last month in response to violence and politics, and he chose to stay on his own and finish his work there before returning home. He was interviewed about a week ago, and had no idea it would run this soon. In fact, he's doing some work right now in a town far away from the other town far away he normally lives in...so he has no Internet, no phone, and no clue that the story ran today, much less that it is a FRONT PAGE story. Fitting, I suppose, that on the day it runs, he's too busy working on the things he's dedicated the past two years of his life to, to even know it has happened.

Anyway, it is a great story, and the web version includes lots of pictures. I think it represents him very well, and shows what a man he is to look up to, my little brother.

One note: It states that he is the son of musicians. Unless by "musicians" they mean veterinary anesthesiologist, and registered nurse, they are mistaken, but who's counting?

The story can be found here. Unless it doesn't work. Then you can go here, and type "Cooper Swanson" in the SEARCH at the top of the page.

Congratulations Coop. This is awesome.

The funny part

So my mom just read my previous post about doctor anxiety, and reminded me that I forgot to include the best part of the whole story. Apparently I got so stressed out reliving the experience that it slipped my mind. Normally I'd just go back and add it to the end of the post, but really, it was funny enough that it deserves its own little entry.

In the car, on the ride home from the screamfest that was her three year well check...

Me: Hailey, you doin' okay now?

Her: Yeah. That was fun.

Despite having me for a mother, she has yet to totally grasp sarcasm. This was the real deal. So I took her to get a Frosty to show her what normal kids call fun. Then again, normal kids also enjoy a bandaid once in a while.

I think they call this "doctor anxiety"

This picture is just to prove to you that Hailey is fine, despite the story I am about to share...

Friday we had Hailey's three year well check. I have only now recovered enough to write about it. Recovered enough...I'll wear the scars for while I think.

Taking Hailey to the doctor is something like forcing a young feisty kitten, with sharp teeth and claws, to take a bath...in ice cold water...while occasionally jumping in the water with said kitten...and listening to some kind of music you just can't stand, like, oh, I don't know...the return of the New Kids on the Block. (Yes, I went there.)

I can't remember the first time this happened exactly. I think it was about her 15 month appointment. That's about the age when most of her anxiety started to surface to the point where it was threatening her normal functionality. I remember we pulled into the parking lot, and it was immediately obvious that she knew where we were, and she did NOT want to go in. Things haven't really changed since. We've been talking about this appointment for a month now. No shots, just good ol' Dr. Hewitt, whom she knows well due to all of the appointments Keelyn has had as an infant.

He's a nice guy, and more importantly, he knows the value of a sticker.

Anyway, by nature, Hailey is terrified of just about everything in the doctor's office. Let's see. There's the scale, which at any moment might turn into a large gaping black hole, sucking her into an eternity of nothingness away from all things she loves. Then there's the eye chart. A new addition at the three year well check. It wasn't the chart that was scary so much as the nurse who was requesting proper shape recognition after just forcing her to cry for nearly five minutes as she fought that darn scale. I mean, really? We JUST got done with the scale. We can't concentrate on shapes! We need hours to recover from these things. And stickers. Where were the stickers? Assuming she can see, by all accounts I'm aware of, we moved onto measuring her height and blood pressure. This involved me holding down my screaming child (which has gotten progressively more difficult since 15 months old) on a table while the nurse pulled her foot to the end of the measuring device, which took all of five seconds. There's really no joke in that. Hailey hates the feeling of insecurity she gets from being up high by herself, unable to grab onto me with her 40-ton kung-foo grip. The table is very, very scary. And though the scale thing is just plain weird, the table thing, I happen to understand.

Oh, did I mention the bubbles? Hailey was screaming so hard by the scale, that a back up nurse showed up with bubbles. She was dancing around blowing bubbles and singing to Hailey in hopes of distracting her enough that we might sit her on the baby scale. Bless her heart. Bubbles. At the doctor. It was at that moment I realized that there was no distraction, no ploy, no fun little story or pretending doctor with her stuffed animal, or any of that which would save her from her misery. This was all about getting out of there as quickly as possible. Period.

I'm not exaggerating at all here. She was SCREAMING. I mean screaming. Blood curdling, pitches that make dogs roll over and play dead, run for your life, I may never forgive you for this, screaming.

Then it came time to prick her finger. The nurse pried one hand from the back of Andrew's neck, only to engage in an arm wrestling battle worth betting on...as long as your bets are with the kid. I think at some point the little needle just happened to graze Hailey's finger enough to draw blood, and then she was able to hold still to provide the sample. The worst part was still to come. The bandaid. Hailey is terrified of bandaids. You know, the sticky kind with cute things on them to make most kids request them because the wind blew the hairs on their legs a bit funny and that's something only a bandaid can fix because it looks pretty and gets them attention?

So the nurse somehow managed to get the bandaid on there all catywompus, and left us to calm our dear child as we awaited the dreaded doctor. Except all hope for her calming down during the mini break was diminished by the fact that she had to wear the bandaid to stop the bleeding...and wearing a bandaid is, as I mentioned before, terrifying.

The remainder of the exam, performed by the doctor, was done by Andrew holding Hailey across his lap facing him, with her head and shoulders resting on the doctor's lap. And our conversation was basically a yelling match that would rival a session of "Hot Topics" with the ladies on The View. As his head was exploding, I think I heard Dr. Hewitt tell me to call him with additional questions so we could talk more clearly another day.

He did manage to put his head back together long enough to pull out a sticker, for which Hailey took a deep breath, and then swiped it from him showing no tears. She then proceeded to peel it from the paper, place it smack dab in the middle of her chest, look to see it sparkle, and then get back to screaming until he left the room, along with any other demons who may have once considered it a safe hiding spot.

The good news is that, other than her extreme intolerance for anything doctor, she is perfectly healthy in every little perfect way. The bad news is, now that she's three, she also has to go to the dentist.

Please, I'm begging you

Dear Keelyn,

Oh My God, PLEASE slow down.

S L OW D O W N.

Pah leeeese!

You are not quite eight months old, and I am so worn out by chasing you around the house I can hardly find time to appreciate you and all your super cuteness.

Don't worry, I won't judge you if you take a break. You know, maybe you just need some time to lie in one place and count to ten once in a while. Just ten seconds. In one place. Without moving.

That's it! Maybe I should teach you to count to ten. Then you might be so distracted as to stop trying to climb the stairs, cruise along the couch, pull cords from outlets, and put everything...like TOTALLY everything...I mean nothing gets left out...in your MOUTH!

I try to enforce it. The break-taking experience. You know, with bed time and all. That time when it's dark and you are supposed to SLEEP. Like, with your eyes closed, paci in your mouth, quietly, without crawling circles around your crib for two hours in the middle of the night, practicing calling for me (which for now is, "ya-ya, ya-ya"). Really, I need you to sleep. I need me to sleep. I really need me to sleep. So I can watch out for you and your sister during the day. When it's light outside. And we are supposed to be awake. And I can actually appreciate the "ya-ya's" and kisses you give me.

And oh, your poor sister. I see the look in her eyes as she contemplates how to deal with your arrival as you approach her once safe seat on the couch, drool covered hands grabbing at her blankie. She panics, as her most frequent phrase of late is "No Kiki, No Kiki, NOOOO!!" But it does no good, because you think it's funny. And that's totally cute. But I need a straight face for poor tormented Hailey's sake, as I feel for her in her little world where she now has to guard even her most sacred possessions.

But it is cute. It's adorable how no matter what she says to you, you laugh. And no matter how much she pushes you away (understandably, with the drool and all), you keep coming back because you ADORE her.

So that's just it. You are incredibly cute, and I am so worn out I can hardly enjoy it. You are moving too fast. You don't need to do this stuff yet. It's not necessary. Truly, I'll carry you. Doesn't that sound fun? Do you know how many kids would like to be carried around everywhere they go?

And we can practice counting to ten. Maybe we can count sheep. Maybe then you will rest. Maybe then you will realize that you don't need to be working on your footing yet. Standing up doesn't really serve you at this juncture anyway. Crawling is fine. Slow crawling. So I can see where you are going and ward off the dangers before you have a roll of toilet paper in your mouth. We can work on walking and talking later. There will be plenty of time for that.

It's just happening all too quickly. I just love you all too much to rush through these precious moments. So please, I'm begging you. Slow down.

Love,
Your very tired, very proud Mama.

Hailey writes a letter

A little conversation with my three year old. I could listen to her talk all day. Enjoy!

The Ba Ba's

Here's a little video of Keelyn's first attempt at talking.

Don't worry, the coughing stopped momentarily. As for the "ba ba's," they pretty much go on for hours.

Happy Birthday, Hailey!

Hailey's birthday celebration has been ongoing for days now. There was her princess party Saturday, which of course included cake. Sunday we went to Grandpa's house for dinner, and more cake. For the past few days, we've had left over cake. Today our cousin, Nancy, brought everything for a little lunch party, including more cake. And tonight, on the final celebration of this whole birthday thing, we again had...CAKE!

Not that I mind. I mean, this is great. And Hailey is floating up on a big fluffy cloud of white icing with sprinkles in the shape of the number nine, singing Happy Birthday to herself.
The highlight of her day today was decorating the cupcakes for tonight. The floor looks about like the cupcakes. Beautiful, delicious sprinkles everywhere.
In continuing the birthday, she got to open more presents. She's holding a dress from Nana here that has pockets and a hood, which she happens to think is the coolest thing ever. I think she called it a, "cool little shirt dress!"
She enjoyed extra family time, with Daddy home early, and Nana to help take pictures...and eat cake.
We helped her blow out her candles, at her request. Actually, her request was that we each had candles on our individual cupcakes, which we did...but this one is hers.
What a great day, for a kid who deserves all the cake in the world.

The three year old version of you.

Dear Hailey,

Today you are three years old. I feel like just yesterday I rolled out of bed and found myself in labor. But then I also seem to remember some nights without sleep, lunch times involving meticulously peeling grapes, and afternoons toweling up peepee accidents, and I realize that some time must have gone by. It must have. Sometimes I still have the feeling I had when we left the hospital with you. That feeling of, "oh my goodness, you want ME to take care of HER??? How will I ever do her justice?" I love you tremendously, and somehow, that seems to get us through.
We've had three years together, full of laughter and tears, cuddling and running around like fools, and recently, even conversation. I could never have imagined how absolutely perfect you would be to me. This, as every phase of your life has presented so far, is my favorite version of you. When I think about this time last year, I am amazed at how dramatically your little life has changed, both by your own accord, and by that which you have had no control over.
For one, I started this blog. It began shortly after your second birthday. This means, that over the past year, my favorite memories of you are documented. This excites me to no end. When I want to remember what a gift you have been to me this year, and how much you have grown, I can just look back here, or here, or here, or (and I promise this is the last one) here.
I guess the biggest change is that you became a big sister. You were just shy of two years and five months old when Keelyn was born, and I can't imagine a better age for you to experience this time. You took such good care of me while I was pregnant. You cuddled with me when I needed extra rest, you ate ice cream with me when I needed extra ice cream, you showered with me when I couldn't bend over to give you a bath, you read books with me when I didn't want to sit on the floor to play a game. You even helped me clean the day before Kiki was born, and loved it as much as I did. I absolutely loved the time we had for just the two of us as you were becoming a little toddler. Now, I can't imagine who you'd be without the big sister role. When you saw her for the first time, the love in your beautiful blue eyes matched the love in ours, and you continue to be the best big sister a baby girl could ask for. You keep her laughing, bring her toys, shower her with hugs and kisses, and read her stories. You show her how to do your big girl things, and she absolutely adores you.
You have overcome the health issues that much defined your life as a baby and early toddler. Your tummy now tolerates anything, and you will gladly fill it with just about everything. You love macaroni and cheese as much as the next kid, but you also enjoy seafood, fruits, veggies, and anything else most kids your age hate. You have overcome your problems with sleep, and now enjoy plenty of it. One of my favorite times of the day is after we have put you to bed, because I love to listen to you gleefully sing yourself to sleep. Such a stark difference from the difficulties you once had. You still enjoy the comforts of your daddy and me when you are faced with a new situation or a large group of people, but you have gotten very brave, and we are learning to help each other out in these times. You are beginning to realize the confidence you deserve to have, and you are a bright shining star.
Other changes you've seen since your second birthday include your first and only haircut, learning to use the potty, growing to use your imagination in play, learning to talk to me in a conversational way, finally learning to sleep past 4:30a.m. and take one nice nap in the afternoon, growing about three feet taller, learning how to actually play hide and seek, and mastering the art of manipulating your parents. You are really very good at negotiating with us. You love to do things on your own like pottying, washing your hands, getting a drink, getting dressed (which now includes picking out your outfits), reading a story, and playing in your room.
Some things haven't changed a bit. You still love Mickey Mouse and Dancing with the Stars. You still love Jack Johnson, Raffi, and any music Daddy loads on his phone, or that was produced in the 80's, or is sung by Phil Collins, Debbie Gibson, or Pat Benetar. (On the note of music, you spent months 2-5 of this year listening exclusively to a CD full of music with your name in it given to you by the Dew family for Christmas. I too enjoyed this music the first week, but by week 9 or 10, when you finally decided that Carrie Underwood might have something to say, I think I threw a little party in the front seat of the car.)
You still love to feed the ducks down the street, and to run around on the golf course behind the house. You still love bath time. You are still obsessed with hand sanitizer. You still love your blankie, and haven't slept a night without it. You still love to clean, and I'm happy to say that your repertoire has expanded to even being able to fold some laundry with me well enough that I don't have to re-fold it after you go to bed (not that I ever did that). You still love to cuddle, and want to sleep with Daddy and me when you don't feel well. You still require a good back scratch each night before bed.
I also see things in you that have been there forever, and are growing with you, helping you become the person you are destined to be. You are quiet, observant, and responsive to what you pick up on in situations. You are cautious. You hear everything, and you are one smart cookie. Your awareness stuns me, as it has since you were born. You take everything in, and now that you are such a good talker, I am able to help you make sense of some things. You have a kind heart. You are eager to share, happy to hold a hand, quick with compliments, and always available for a hug. You are extremely expressive whether happy or sad. Sometimes that means I have to listen to some yelling or whining or carrying on, but ultimately, it is something I love about you, because it shows your strength of character. I too am very expressive, and I know that you and I have many open moments and conversations in our years together to come. I look forward to the days when you are truly able to share what's in your heart. When your expression is happy, you are HAPPY! You love to dance around the house, love to dress up and make yourself look "vewy pwetty," love to sing and jump and spin, to take care of your baby dolls, and talk a mile a minute. Your grandparents would tell you that you inherited the talking trait from both your daddy and me. We plead the 5th. Not a day goes by that I don't find something in you that amazes me. I love it when you come to me just for a hug or a kiss. I love it when you play on your own and I see a smile on your face. I love it when we run errands and you help me get things done. I love having you by my side. I love having the opportunity to know all of you every day, and to share so many sacred moments of your life with you, as you become whatever version of you that's in the works on a given day. I love this three year old version of you. I miss the version we had a year ago, but I can't wait to see who you will become as we embark on another year. I really feel like, with you, we are in this together. I need you more than you can ever know, and I adore you for being my daughter, and for being exactly who you are.
Happy birthday, Haya.

Love, Mama

Happy Fall

Fit for a princess

Two things determined the atmosphere for Hailey's birthday party this year. First, her love of anything that has anything to do with anything princess, especially if it involves her getting to be one. Second, if there was ever a kid who the "number of kids should match number of years old" rule was written for, it's Hailey. As it happens, she has three close little girlfriends about her age, so a princess party we had. I do know it's a little young to start excluding boys. I also know a lot of little boys who might think it's fun to wear tutus and wave fairy wands. But this worked for Hailey, and she loved every minute of it.

This year marked my first cake making experience. Previously, I stuck to the much simpler cup variety, which require no steady hands, no decorating genius, and no fancy layering. With the 30 or so birthday parties we have ahead, I figured it was time to grab the bull by the horns... or the sprinkles by the shakers, if you will. I did okay, but I'm assuming these things get better with practice. Hailey's response..."I think it needs more sprinkles." Guess I didn't shake hard enough.Hailey's girls arrived...she calls them her "girls"...some already in princess attire, some needing more. Lucky for them, Hailey spent her morning meticulously laying out each and everything princess she owns, so there was no confusion about what one might choose to wear to a shindig like this. They strutted around in their gear a bit...that's my beauty of a princess there in the middle, sporting her okay,-I'm-smiling,-take-my-picture,-do-I-look-pretty-for-the-camera?,-hello-I'm-smiling,-take-my-picture smile...
Keelyn dressed the part too...just in case you were wondering about the other Plunkett princess...and they made pretty princess bracelets...because I could not justify a party without a craft!...
ate the cake despite the severe sprinkle shortage...
and opened presents.
Hailey had a fabulous time, and has been walking around in princess shoes (thanks to Nana, she now has a pair to transform her into any princess she so chooses), wearing a princess tiara, and talking about her princess friends all evening. And so has the cat...because let's face it, we're just a house full of princesses, accompanied by one lonely prince.