5

Cinderella turned 5 on Sunday.

As much as I was hyperventilating at the thought of my firstborn turning 5, on Sunday I was completely at peace about it.

I realized that I have actually been looking forward to 5 for two years now.















5 means kindergarten, and reading, and adding. 5 means taking responsibility, and making friends, and writing stories. 5 means independence, and understanding, and maturity.















5 means my motherly pride has never been greater.

This year, 5 also meant my mad baking skilz failed me:















I swear this wasn't my fault! The cake was completely cooled.

I think it was the frosting. Cinderella insisted on the party frosting with the little candy bits in it. Obviously, it was a little runny.

I even tried scooping it back up and re-spreading it. That frosting was having nothing to do with that cake.

Oh well. I have another birthday coming up in May to prove I can frost a cake.

For now? I still have 5.