Never before, I think, has a girl been more excited to turn five years old than my girl was. So much so, in fact, that I feared she might be disappointed when the day arrived and she found the world wasn't so much different than it had been the night before, when she was still only four.
She spent the week before her birthday telling anyone who would listen: My birthday is on Tuesday. I'm going to be five! On Tuesday morning she was awake before anyone else—which is the usual state of things around here—and came into our bedroom announcing: I'm five now!
The year she was born we found a way to fit in Thanksgiving around her homecoming; our good friend and neighbor brought us Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings, our first meal as a family of three. These days, because of the travel involved in spending this family holiday with our far-away families, we instead fit Julia's birthday around Thanksgiving. Our sweet girl, with her innate and inborn talent for finding happiness in the smallest of things, doesn't seem to mind.
This year we had Julia's birthday after breakfast (sourdough pancakes, at the Birthday Girl's request): her birthday crown, a few little gifts, candles and cupcakes. Just a small celebration before we packed up the rental car for the long drive to George's grandmother's house, and just what our funny, sunny girl wanted on her fifth birthday.