This morning, we went into town for your 12-month appointment with Dr. Hoover. It appears that you're in great shape, and you performed all your little tricks - you did "Gimme five," and "Where's Mama's nose?" and you shook your index finger when I told her about how we read the part in the book that warns, "No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"
But then it came time to give you your shots: one in each thigh, and one in each arm. You cried. You wailed. Your face turned bright red and you stopped breathing because you were so upset. So I started to cry. And then the nurse asked, "Mom, can you hold her arms down?" Well, no, no I could not. I was too busy sobbing. When the shots were over, I quickly got you dressed and high-tailed it out of there. You were done with the crying by the time you got to the elevator, but I cried all the way to Walmart.
Then we went to the airport and picked up Brian and his dog Ben, who have flown in from Los Angeles to attend your birthday party. Brian can say he's the only person to attend both the Oscars AND your birthday party in the same year.
When your dad came home, we all went for a little hike, but first Brian and Ben had to have a little talk about how things work in Montana...you know, that Ella's the boss, but you can tinkle on anything you want.
When we got home, Brian let you play with his iPad. It's the kind of sweet, optimistic thing that someone with no children would do. While you were mastering all of his different apps and watching some God-forsaken Lady Gaga videos, I was thinking, "How much will it cost to replace that thing when Laney jams her finger through the screen?"
After you went to bed, the adults stayed up and made the cupcakes for your party tomorrow. Wait 'til you see 'em. They're really...uh...something. Well, at least our hearts are in the right place, even if the frosting isn't.
Really looking forward to tomorrow, sweet girl.
Love,
Mom
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