Poco Mountain Girl

Today, after three months of counting down the days, she turned six.

She woke up early and went on a treasure hunt.  There were picture clues on the back of each note.

The clues led her to the playhouse and a waiting pinata.

“I’ve wanted one of these my entire life!” she said.

She needed some help with the whacking so Dadda took over.

Q: How many big strong whacks does it take to break one very small pinata?

A: Quite a few, apparently.

After picking up all the gummy bunnies and yummy earth suckers and fruit twists, she opened presents.

Grasshopper pie was breakfast.  Funny she asked for it for her birthday–I did too, for my birthday when I was little.  I remember those little bottles of creme de menthe and creme de cacao.

This recipe is raw, vegan, and gluten-free. And yummy.

There’s a story behind this particular Grasshopper pie.  I had the marvelous idea to pipe some whipped cream onto it.  I had already whipped some cream and put it in the freezer, so I took it out and thawed it in the fridge.

But I didn’t know that after being frozen, it’s not whipped cream anymore–it’s just cream again.

So I had a frozen Grasshopper pie with a sea of liquid cream all over it, and it immediately froze onto it. I tried fixing it in so many ways, and finally, I washed it.  Yes, I washed it–very quickly–under running hot water.  And it worked.

After that, I used icing to pipe her birthday message.  Lesson learned.

We went to the playground, then to the carousel for a ride.  We went to the post office and found two birthday boxes, and went home to open them.

She got to watch a cartoon movie and later we went out for ice cream.  She tried rainbow sherbet for the first time and loved it.  Caleb called and sang Happy Birthday to her–which I think was her favorite part of the whole day.

I am mamma to a six-year-old.  I miss my little five-year-old.  Here she is on her last day of being five.

It’s getting more complicated, this mamma thing.  I’ll keep it simple as long as I can.  I’m sad that babies grow up.  But happy I get to watch them grow up.

I’m happy she’s not my only baby, or I might try too hard to keep her little, to keep her mine.  Every birthday now, I can feel the pull, and I have to let go a little more.  Stay close, little girl.

Stay little, just a little longer.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 10th, 2013 at 11:18 pm and is filed under Celebrating, Little Redhead Girl. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.