Ruby's Birthday, the end. Being born on Christmas day I've never had a proper birthday party, no pools and pizza, no cupcakes and sleepovers, more often than not it was a home baked pie and hugs at my grandmother's farm. Therefore, it was pretty satisfying to plan and execute this little gala for Rubes and document it to hold against her in her teen "I hate you Mom" phase.
Though these little monkeys were up cackling 'til midnight they rose at the crack of dawn, quickly morphing into ballerinas and cowboys, not a hint of fatigue on their chubby faces. I scraped up some eggs and hid behind my coffee mug, happily dropping eaves on their sweet (and very serious) lisping discussions: whether the pony and unicorn in Ruby's Narnian stables were dancing OR fighting with each other, or if Matilda's "heart beep" sounded good in the veterinarian stethoscope.
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