Seven

 Dutch had a good birthday. We did the traditional wake-up with singing and (this year) apple muffins with candles in them. Skipper refused to wake up for it, so the waking and present-opening were all about Dutch, which was nice. She loved her presents, and just the sheer gleeful Dutch-centric-ness of it all.

Then Skipper finally woke up, and we ate breakfast. 

Then Dutch spilled Skipper's celebratory juice on the floor, and this is her expression just after it happened. Apparently, anticipation of my spill-related wrath is terrifying. Also, I think this may be a preview of what Dutch will look like when she's 90.

I went to Dutch's school to have lunch with her, which was fun, and we all went out to eat for dinner tonight. Dutch had an orange soda with whipped cream in it, and a plate of french fries covered in bacon, sour cream, scallions, and cheddar cheese. She knows how to live it up, that kid. But now her birthday is over, and it's back to leafy dark greens.

Oh, and it POURED rain all morning - we had our rainiest bike commute yet, and it was cold, too. Dutch was a trooper, though, as befits a seven-year-old.

And THIS is the only photo I have from our houseguests' visit. Next time I must do better.