Placemats with a printed round label became Beatles records, complete with song titles and personalized with Happy Birthday Clara.
A friend that will make you Twinkie submarines (complete with periscope) and organic cup cakes for your kid’s birthday can not be described adequately.
(I get by with a little help from my friends).
Gin martini with raspberry and lemon wedge garnish. I stay up late at night thinking about these things.
Strawberry Fields (Rainbow fruit skewers).
Sgt. Pepper-oni Lonely Hearts (Heart-shaped mini pizzas with heart shaped pepperoni.) I’ve got an incredible father-in-law that humors me without complaint.
And we discovered that Clara loves hard-boiled eggs. Bonus.
Individual veggie cups (AKA Octopus’s Garden) with ranch dressing at the bottom discourages double dipping.
Cheese flower, hearts and butterfly cut-outs. Easy to do with thin sliced cheese and miniature cookie-cutters.
It’s all for her. All of it. Every bit of single hole punched piece of confetti and late nights glue-sticking and texts back and forth with Deb as we schemed and the twice weekly trips to Michael’s. All of it is for her and I’ll do it again, each and every year and if she looks back at the photos some day and echoes, as her father has said, repeatedly in the past few days, that I’m crazy, I’ll agree.
But I did it all because I could. And because she’s worth it.
And I love her.