The birthday girl. There’s something magical about the second birthday. She’s still too young to understand the concept of the birthday. So she wakes up on what to her is any other day and is greeted with balloons, bubbles, presents, more chocolate cake than she could eat and lots of adoring visitors. Its innate randomness just adds to her joy in it.
She was shown the kitchen as soon as she woke up. Or to be more accurate as soon as she slapped us awake and told us to get out of bed. I think the oven mitt is her favourite part of the whole thing.
The balloons were a big hit right up until one of them popped and snapped her in the face. And despite sobbing into my chest from the fright and the pain, it in no way deterred her from attempting to capture more wayward balloons. This led to more popping. Not good. Eventually we managed to get the balloons up into their decorative positions. However, this too was met with outrage. Using my most awesome parenting skills I distracted her with a bottle.
Later on there was bubbles. Thanks to a battery run bubble machine, also known as bubble madness.
And more bubbles. There’s no such thing as too many bubbles.
There was fairy bread. Highly nutritious.
And presents. Lots and lots of presents. Also, I’m afraid I might have a stunt woman on my hands. She looks far too comfortable here.
And swinging. Because nothing says winning combination like bucket loads of sugary goodness and swinging.
Luckily, unlike her mother she has a stomach of cast iron.
Everyone took tea. Whether they liked tea or not.
And birthday cake. With more icing than cake. Also known as an icing delivery system. No one complained.
Now she’s two. She looks so much taller today.
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My name is Zoey. 
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