Miley Turns Three

Miley-Bug Turns Three

A little girl’s third birthday should be nothing short of magical. Really, it’s the first one she’s got a shot of remembering. She should have a tiered pink dancing skirt and a beautiful princess cake and a castle to jump in and a bubble machine and cotton candy maker. Her friends should put a tiara in her hair and a boa around her shoulders while she opens her presents and whispers “I luwve it” at each one.

Fit for a Princess

Her birthday should be on a perfectly sunny spring day, and the gladiolus should be peeking up out of her grandmother’s garden to watch. Her hair should be curly and blonde, and she should have big blue eyes… well, at least this little girl did.

And so today was Miley’s third birthday, and what a party she had. Friends and family from all over came to celebrate, and she was just too cute, decked out in pink and so sweet my teeth hurt. The weather was perfect for a day spent outside jumping in a bounce house, snacking on chicken salad and cranberry croissants, kicking a soccer ball, and wiggling our toes in the green grass. It’s days like this that remind me that no matter what crumbles (burns) to the ground, we’re all going to be just fine.


Carter spent the day outside, soaking up sunshine and fresh air. He’s been feeling off this week (teething? a

With the Birthday Girl

need for a new formula? calling the pedi on Monday…), so it was nice to see him smiley for most of the party. He really liked the cool grass, and showed off how strong his neck muscles are by pushing up and acting like a very soft and cute periscope. Currently he’s in bed, and I’m crossing my fingers he makes it through the night. Poor bird could use some sleep.

Spring break is around the corner, and it can’t come soon enough. If today is any indication of what Phoenix holds in store for the next few weeks, I’d be smart to dig out my swim suit and plan a day by the pool. Of course, there’s so much I need to do with that time, that who knows how I’ll manage. So is life, I know.

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