The only downside to having a crazy, wild "Ariel occupied" Princess party is the day after hangover that creates symptoms of exhaustion, extreme crankiness, and the absence of adulatory attention that was in abundance just hours before.
This morning was tough.
Bama and Papa returned home, the balloons appeared wilted, and the lack of sleep fueld by a sugar diet was beginning to catch up to her.
If something didn't cause her to cry, then it was ruled "disgusting" (her new favorite word). By ten o'clock, I was threatening to return all the toys. Convinced that a good rest would cure all, I tucked the little mister away and began a marathon book read with an audience that remained displeased with all of my literary choices. On the verge of putting her up in her room like the good ole' days, the phone rang and saved all.
It was Uncle Paul, calling from Iraq, to tell his little goddaughter "Happy Birthday" and that he couldn't wait to join her at the beach...perhaps to show Ariel a thing or two about swimming?
It was the first smile she cracked all day and a nap soon followed.
This is Day 124.
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