We are turning 6. Its a big number, actually it tends to make me a little woozy when I think about how big that number is and how I continue to be ignored when I tell her to stop getting older. This is a friend-party year and Charlotte was clear that she wanted a Ballerina Princess in Paris party. My dream of a little tomboy just isn't working out for me (yet- perhaps there is hope in Claire). But Charlotte, well she loves pink and twirling and fancy.
With the help of aunt Abby the three of us hand made invites (three bottles of glitter glue, of course). Prior to actually making a count I state that she was going to invite ALL of the girls in her class or NONE of the girls in her class. As a teacher (and previous 1st grade student) there was no other option. I held fast even when I realized that with Sunday School friends (again ALL or NONE) we somehow ended up with a list of 18 five/six year old girls... and the party was in my house (no big open Rec Center run around in). I was soon breaking out into cold sweats in the middle of the night- that's just a lot of little ballerinas.
Aunt Sarah came down and as usual went above and beyond as she transformed our living room into a little Parisian cafe.
The cupcakes may have been my favorite as I had found these little ballerinas on Etsy, added some sparkly sprinkles and VOILA.
... that was until aunt Sarah showed up with pink chocolate Eiffel towers pops. What?!? Let me write that again Pink. Chocolate. Eiffel towers. on a stick... what amazing aunts my girls have.
I was worried because we had so many girls coming whom I had never met their parents. Would they feel comfortable leaving their precious daughters at our house? How could I greet them and communicate that we would ensure their daughters would be safe and happy. As these worries were bubbling around in my head about 10 minutes before the party Jake walks out with a plate of croissants, baguettes, cheeses and had dressed up like a French man. He and Alex sat outside, greeting each perplexed mother with a "Bonjour!", "Bienvenue à Paris!" and "Be our guest" (in a heavy Lumiere the candlestick accent). Dressing up for his girls is his love language, what can I do... I decided that since they did not judge me for having a crazy Frenchman outside my house, I would not judge them for leaving their daughters in a house with a crazy Frenchman outside. :)
(Check out the little ballerina in the door who thought it was amazing)
Aunt Sarah had cut yards and yards of toile, each of the girls got to pick out their favorite colors and tie it to an elastic waist band creating "the fanciest, puffiest" tutus in town. Then the "french" ballerina Abby came out and they practiced their plies and pirouettes in our cleared out dinning room.
Lots of spinning (it makes the tutus fluff)
And right on cue Claire joined in... cruelly dashing my hopes of ever getting Tomboy, but reminding me that it doesn't matter cause few things are cuter than a little girl pointing her toes.
We sang happy birthday to my sweet almost 6 year old and I was reminded of how much I love my precious family. The amazing aunts that moved this party to an all new level of fancy, my dear friends who loaned me their French possessions, my crazy husband who literally can not help himself when it comes to a party and a costume, a little sister that was able to go with flow even without a nap, but mostly Charlotte. Who loved the fancy, but was more excited about sharing it with her friends.
Comments