Table decor to set the stage...
A star shaped cake that I providently created...
Flip flops and the buckets that started it all...
Beautiful friend "chalking" her likeness...
First off, I think we can all agree that my house is probably made of Kryptonite. Else how could my Super intentions be weakened and annihilated on such a consistent basis? No other explanation. Kryptonite house.
And I'm sorry this post is so late, but I couldn't find my eyebrows. I ended up using my sense of touch and just filled them in where they would normally be, but with so little guidance, let's just say it's a blessing this blog isn't HD.
So anyway, I gave birth to a happy, healthy PATRIOTIC PARTY last night. Thirty seven minutes into it, I sat in the cool of my kitchen and shot off a cocky email to my sister telling her how "WONDERFUL it is when the girls are old enough to entertain themselves..." then SCREAM, SPLASH, SHRIEK, SLAM!
'Twas the sound of my pride going before the fall.
The whole gaggle of sopping wet divas came crashing in, determined to compress all four hours of planned activities into one, spurred on by Miss GREEDY GUTS Birthday Princess, who was more anxious than an irritable bowel to explode in a flurry of activity that would culminate in the HIGHLY ANTICIPATED PRESENT OPENING, with the preceding activities just being the mode of transportation in which to arrive.
Now I know how crestfallen you all must be that you weren't there for the minutia. But dry those eyes and put your paws together in a happy clap, peeps, cuz I'm gonna gloss over a few topics of discussion! It'll be just like we were looking at the same moon!
Um, okay, so did you know that there is, like, this girl in their class that like, TOTALLY thinks she's like a TOMBOY? But like, she like, TOTALLY brings make-up and stuff to school, like a girly-girl, but then, like, she thinks that she has like, the right to call herself a Tomboy just because, get this, like, she picks up spiders! I know! Like that makes you a Tomboy! (outrage and disgusted eye rolling)
So then, like, oh my gosh! The song, "California Girls" is like, TOTALLY THE BEST SONG EVERRR! But it's kind of like, gross and stuff, like that part about bikini tops and Daisy Dukes and stuff, but like, oh my gosh! They totally LUUUUUV that song!
And then, like, this boy they all know, always like, acts, like he like-likes one of the girls, but then, he like, says he only likes her, not like-likes her. But that's OK, cuz she wants to like, keep her options open, like, cuz she's not ready to settle down with anyone yet, you know?
The rest of the party in a Dr. Seuss nutshell~
~They swam, they chalked, they valley girl talked.
They roasted, they toasted, they continually boasted.
Throw in six bags of gummy worms, licorice, circus peanuts and animal cookies, add to that three more bags of Cheetos, Doritos and Lays, plus watermelon, s'mores, birthday cake and snow cones and you have what I like to call "14 untouched hamburgers thrown in the garbage can."
And there you have it. The end.