Her special day was made even more special by a birthday party for a little friend.
Pre-show meal at Izzos. At this point, I'm pretty sure she thought her surprise was her taco.
Still no idea although she spotted Elmo on the 18-wheeler parked outside.
Walking into the arena, she thinks she is seeing a "band".
And then she spots Elmo, her "favorite friend," she says.
Brother got to get in on the action, too.
Couldn't leave without some requisite, overpriced memento. Sucker.
A sweet day, indeed.
As we were leaving, D witnessed the devastation of another baby accidentally letting go of her balloon. She vowed to "go to Mars with her ladder" to get it back for her. It was a defining moment in her life to be sure as she is still talking about it today.
In other funny news, D informed me a few weeks ago that she wanted to be a dog for Halloween. I found that to be a simple enough request and gathered the necessary materials. On the way home from school this week, I asked her what she wanted to be for Halloween, just for good measure, and she answered, "a skateboard".
Hmm...that's a stumper. Fortunately, she decided on a cat after a brief detour of wanting to be a princess. I am a little nervous that we might get to Halloween and have an utter meltdown because she no longer wants to be a cat or the cat I create isn't the cat she envisioned. And such is life with a toddler. The struggle is real!
In more interesting D news, when she is feeling a little impish, she calls B and me "Boo-Boo". Let's be clear- this is in no way related to the late "Honey Boo-Boo," a phenomenon I know about in name only. Instead, it comes from her desire to say the word "booty" without getting in trouble.
And finally, I always imagined I would have a child who never said anything to embarrass me in public, much like the sweet little girl I babysat for years. Well, let's just say there is still hope for brother. D, upon seeing a man wearing a necklace or with a ponytail, asks (loudly), "Is that a guh or a boy?" Fair enough. Transcending gender stereotypes is a tall order for a two year old. Infinitely more mortifying, though, is when she noticed a person walking out of the cry room at Mass last weekend and said, "He's big!" You cannot imagine how fast my hand flew from my lap over her mouth.