Three-year-olds live large.

Hey so remember Eleanor's birthday last year, when it was literally just the two of us trapped in our house, because it was -30 and we didn't have a car and Joel was working and Geneva was not yet born and Josie and I were friends but we weren't yet besssst friends (like the kind of friends who make space for you even in the middle of their Very Busy Holiday Season, even though they are a little over-socialized and tired, because they know that you are a tiny bit under-socialized and also because your daughter loves them most of anyone else in the city. Josie, you are basically the best) and E and I actually had a very great day together and ate a lot of expensive cheese and totally made do with our own two selves?

Ok so this year was the opposite of that. I mean, balloons in the bedroom, yes.

But rainbow sprinkles in the cereal, and a newer, better birthday cup.

And then sledding with aforementioned best friends.

And sledding alone LOOK AT HER so tiny on that hill.

And then nap time, because sledding is work.

And the Christmas tree is down but the Birthday Tree is up.

And the cake has so many candles

but now we eat it with a fork.

And such large presents for such a big girl. You gotta really get in there.

Game break.

Present.

Dance break.

Present.

Monster block break.

Present.

Bathrobe break.

Present.

Unicorn break.

Present.

Pig puppet break.

Pig puppet, you help with the rest of the presents.

Book break.

Geneva, how you doing? Still sick and unhappy?

Just checking. Hang in there, kid.

Happy birthday, Eleanorface. You continue to be an alright kind of person.