Four years, six desserts, one birthday girl

Today is Evie's fourth birthday. Based on my limited knowledge of human brain development, this is the first birthday she has any real chance of remembering. Even if she does take something away from this, for the rest of her life, it will probably be a glimmer - like how it felt to ride a bike for the first time:

But it's more likely that we'll just hold these memories for her, and tell her the same stories every March 21 until she can recite them by heart.

We'll tell her about March 21, 2007, when a little fetus we called Rasbaby made her entrance into the world.

The joy was overwhelming. The nurses had to tell us to quiet down and reduce the number of guests in our room. We celebrated and snuggled and slept and cared for her and knew that the world was forever changed for the better, now that she was in it.

Every subsequent March, around the time the snow crocuses bloom in Reno, or the snow starts to melt in the Midwest, we remember that feeling.

A year later, we invited our friends over, threw her a celebration, and discovered that 1-year-old Evie did not care for cake. To her credit, she was feeling a little under-the-weather that day, and not everyone appreciates the subtle nuance of buttercream frosting.

By year 2, she was starting to warm up to this whole birthday thing. She got two celebrations, her very own cake at home:

and a party with friends, balloons, bouncing, toys, and all the frosting a toddler could want.

When she turned 3, we celebrated at the Minnesota Children's Museum with our family and friends.

As always, there was cake.

This year, we took over a bounce house with Evie's friends, cousins, and preschool classmates.

Also, there was cake.

Today, her actual birthday, we took her bike shopping and out for pizza. Daddy made cupcakes.

It was a good day, a day worth remembering. We'll tuck today away with the rest and be ready to re-tell the story, lest Evie forget.

Happy birthday, Evie!

PS: Thanks for the memories, and the cake.