Phoned-In Frozen Party

When you're a pastor's kid and your birthday falls on Good Friday,

I'm sorry but your celebration suffers.

She can add it to her therapy manifesto.

Ashlyn turned 7 a few weeks ago.

She had two requests.

A trampoline park and Elsa plates.

Ask and ye shall receive.

Before we get into the party I planned in five minutes,

let's talk Ashlyn at 7.

She's smart.

Determined.

Tall.

She's missing most of her front teeth.

She talks non-stop.

She loves first grade.

At her annual IEP meeting with the school district I learned of a group of boys she orders around.

A special needs posse, if you will.

"Edwin, please get my FM."

"Joey, please tell me when Mrs. Savory (her speech therapist) comes to the door."

"George, I need my lunch, please."

Her teacher made sure to let me know she always says please.

Like that makes it OK.

She is one strong (and bossy) cookie.

We love her so much.

We also love the rainbow discipline chart.

And bedtime.

More for the manifesto.

Back to our party of the century.

I booked the place online.

Ordered a cake and balloons from Safeway.

Hijacked a favor idea from a friend who hosted a Frozen party a few weekends before.

And her leftover, two-week-old cotton candy.

That she drove 400 miles up Highway 5.

So. MUCH. therapy.

Conceal don't feel.

And you know?

I don't think anyone noticed.

And I was reminded once again.

It's not about the details.

It's about the company.

Kids love old cotton candy.

Happy Birthday, Ashy girl.