We are home.
We are sick.
Cough. Sniffle. Sniffle. Cough.
I tend to get weepy and frustrated when life interferes with my plans, or fantasies... yesterday was Maria's first birthday. Though she had no expectations of the day, I naturally envisioned a homemade, organic cake with butter-cream frosting, fresh flowers in vases, Maria in a dress with her hair gathered in a bow, maybe pony rides, and certainly friends and family gathered around, sipping chilled chardonnay, nibbling clever finger foods. We are really too sick to have friends over, so instead we went out to infect total strangers at the zoo.
Maria is one year old, and a day. She is wonderful. She makes us laugh and she makes us sing. Because of her we find cause to celebrate every day. She loved her day at the zoo, where she gazed in awe at the monkeys and marveled at the giraffes. She fell asleep before we reached the elephants. Isn't it grand, she saw new sights and laughed and enjoyed all and was never disappointed? She doesn't have the cold we have. She is healthy, happy, safe and adored, and without hand printed invitations, pony rides or satin bows, she had yet another very good day.