It’s official. Sophie is now three years old. We celebrated in style today – with a bunch of little tykes who were all incredibly well-behaved, considering that they were confined in our house for two hours because of the rain – and a lovely clown who enthralled the kiddies with silly magic and balloon-making.
We improvised the picnic we were supposed to have outside by setting out blankets and towels on the dining room floor. Sophie was very generous sharing her toys (neither a scream was heard nor a tear shed), and the children seemed to have a great time.
Chloe, in training for her future as a babysitter in six years, lovingly ensured that all the little ones were happy – playing with them, making important announcements (“The clown is here! The clown is here!” “Time for pizza!” “Time for cake!”), distributing the yummy cake and the all-important giveaways.
Sophie had a grand time – and so did we. The only negative – she didn’t like the Corolle doll I bought for her. She liked it when she first saw it, but when she discovered that she couldn’t undo the ponytail in the doll’s hair, she cast her aside like yesterday’s garbage. I’m hoping Sophie will soon realize the folly of her actions, and realize that her inability to change the doll’s hairstyle is not a fatal flaw. Tolerance, Sophie, it’s all about tolerance.