You gotta fight (dun dun) for your right (dun dun)...

This last Sunday was Miss Peanut's 4th birthday party.

It was an exercise in controlled chaos.

Since this year seemed to be the Year of the Huge Birthday Party, I caved to the peer pressure and had her party at the local Gymboree. Hey - I didn't have to clean the house. I think that's worth the $200 Gymboree fee... Yeah, I'm that lazy. Picking up after one 4-year old is hard enough - could you imagine the mess generated by 10 of them???

Peanut and I made her birthday cupcakes the night before, generating much criticism from the WCM, as we used a boxed mix. See, I've always been anti-box when it comes to my baking. It's a point of personal pride that everything that comes out of my kitchen is made from scratch. I figured, though, that when dealing with the unrefined 4-year old palate, boxed mix and canned frosting with mountains of sugar sprinkles were going to be just the thing. And they totally were, the WCM's misgivings aside.

The kids were adorable. The WCM hadn't wanted to come, but I made him come. The look on his face when he saw those kids running around, maniacally bouncing from one climber to the next like supercharged pinballs, was priceless. "It's bedlam," he breathed. "Total and utter bedlam!" The grin stole slowly over his face as he reached for the camera. I got some great shots from him.

The presents were all girly - two sets of fairy princess wings, wands, and tutus! - and right up Peanut's alley. A really with-it parent bought her a mini-Eiffel Tower dollhouse made by the Madeline people. Great gift for a French teacher's daughter. I thought the party went great.

As we were walking out to the car, I asked Peanut if it was a good party.

"No," she said "nobody gived me a big duckie."

Ahhhh, childhood.

Guess what I'm doing tomorrow?

Duckie hunting.