A small girl, slightly before seven this morning (thank you, BST, you came just in time!) "Mummy, Mummy, am I the Birthday Girl?"
A highly orchestrated morning, "No, Mummy, not hello, you need to say, hello my precious Birthday Girl because you are the Birthday Mummy." Weetabix inhaled in double quick time to open the present from Mog, carefully searched out princess dresses and assorted tiaras and hair bands admired and assembled, but the real winner, this last-minute addition, a set of scrubs courtesy of Sainsbury's sale.
One "Doctor kit" complete with mask and stethoscope, and after the minor diversion of a full school day, she was home, changed, and outside showing off to everyone and chasing her schoolmates' parents down the street to try to listen to their chests. It's possible we'll be working on personal boundaries this year.
Phone calls, parcels, cards, six candles in a pot of chocolate pudding and a box of maltesers from the bus driver, what more could any girl wish for?
One very tired little girl fast asleep by six o'clock but only after more instructions "Now you must say goodnight my beautiful Birthday Girl because this was my very special day."