|The logo from the store's website.|
When you turned seven on Tuesday, March 11, 2014, lots of good things happened. Before school, we gave you a safari book with moving pictures because you LOVE animals, especially cheetahs and tigers and lions. You wore a pretty heart necklace to school.
After mounds of snow, it hit 65 degrees today. You came off the bus, went upstairs and put on your swimsuit to go out and play. You rang the bell at Obie's house and asked to play with Marcelo, her adorable, green-eyed, two-year-old son.
I made your cake request, a heart shape with pink icing and fresh pink sweetheart roses around the border. The dad in this house wrote your name on it in chocolate chips. [I'm sorry to say it was a rubbery, fallen disaster. It was a genoise I never tried before and just as I was folding the flour and melted butter into the billowy whipped eggs, H. insisted we all run out to watch you pedal your bike.]
We gave you a shiny pink bike and a new helmet. You already started riding, H. as your coach, Rowan by your side on his own two-wheeler. You wanted to go out again in the dark....the answer, of course, was no.
Nikki and her Mom, Anne, came over for cake. They brought you stylish flip flops with pink flowers. You talked on the phone with your Mom, Nana, uncle, grandpa, Aunt Moey. [You were too wound up to get on the phone when your good grandma, Mimi, called.] You blew out seven candles. Even Sugar gave you a birthday card of her own, and a gift--footless leggings and socks.
Aunt Eileen and Izzy and family up in Maine sent flowers to your royal self--a big, beautiful bouquet that came with a fuzzy brown teddy bear. You spoke on the phone to them tonight. Uncle John up in Maine sent you a book. I picked out beautiful clothes for you from Over the Moon on Valley Road in Montclair--two pretty dresses, a top and navy pants, a trendy white terry beach cover up. I always liked to shop there for Figgy, Laura, Nikki and other little girls. At the toy store, I got you an Ugly Doll, pink on one side, purple on the other.
I hear H. reading you a princess story upstairs.
Now that it ended, I hear you say, "I don't like Alice," and when he balks, "Wait, wait, I don't like her, but I love her." Turmoil inside your little self. Turmoil, conflicting loyalties, guilt, confusion. I've heard it many times now. I also know you love me, and have heard you say that, too. Your heart is working best it can, your brain processing info as it comes.
Good night, dear pal. May life treat you right. Have to sign off to cut a batch of brownies into hearts to bring into your class tomorrow.
Love, your foster mom, Alice
- Took a nice long walk with Sug.
- Private Benjamin.
- Met my friend Anne at Java Love, long overdue.