Esmé's third birthday was no small celebration. We stuffed over 40 well-wishers into our little grey house and "yard" for a party to end all parties. We were happy so many family and friends could be there. Sarah outdid herself with pig-eriffic cake. And Aunt Stephie worked her sugar-cookie magic for what may be the cutest party favors I've ever seen. Everybody's help, enthusiasm and well wishes were much appreciated.And our little three-year old is truly something to behold. She can spell her name ("E-S-M and another E!"). She's starting to count quantities. She draws rainbows and ovals and people. She's hard on herself, too, which of course, worries me a little. The other day I pointed out a rainbow in the sky. "Oh," she said with a note of disappointment, "that doesn't look like the rainbow I draw." Recently we told her we were going to a museum. "Is it the Jackson Pollack museum?" she asked. I had to break the news to her that it was just a silly little children's museum. We have Olivia to thank for that. She's already talking about what she'll be able to do once she's four. Sleep in the "up" bed (that is the top bunk of a bunk bed) and play miniature golf. Two things she's witnessed her cousins do recently. Personally I'm in no hurry to get there, though. Three is already proving to be far too much fun.
