Her Leap Year

I had to work late on Ainsley's birthday, hobnobbing with the elite, so we delayed celebrating until this evening. (Well, I delayed -- she went out to eat Indian food with girlie friends.)

I actually got home before she did, so I grabbed the nearest vegetarian cookbook to make her something A) special, B) different, and C) containing already-present ingredients, since I'm not one really to plan ahead, or else I would have thought about making her a cake on any of the other three days I was here by myself while she was being barny with the kids.

But the spinach and noodley pasta thing wasn't too bad if you added a lot of salt, and Dad had graciously purchased a strawberry goo shortcake for all to enjoy and get buzzed on (if you're under 4) before tackling the presents.

She was most thrilled with the fly swatter I got her. It's the length of a baseball bat with a swat-part as big as a Panera loaf of bread.

No, not thrilled. What's that word. Appalled. Same number of "l"s.