Happy 2nd Birthday, Mila (Better Late Than Never)

Dear Mila,

This is quite possibly the most belated of belated birthday letters, and for that I apologize. Except, not really, because I haven't forgotten about that thing where you started life by causing five days of false labor.

Yes, it's your fault.

While your sister did everything she could to cause the least amount of trouble possible, you were all DID SOMEONE SAY TROUBLE? WHERE?

At least you're consistent.

You're a consistent little ball of sunshine who carries trouble in her front pocket and joy in her heart. Sometimes you confuse trouble with joy and sometimes you mix them together. When you mix them together, the result is almost always belly laughs dipped in perfection. I've caught you rolling around the floor, crippled by your own hilarity, more than once. There's almost always some sort of trickery involved. If there's not? Then Alexis is involved.

You and Alexis. You're best friends. Actually, you're something more than best friends. I hope it's always that way.

By the time Alexis was two, I had a pretty good read on who she would be when she was older. I predicted a dance lover who kept her nose buried in books. There's more that I knew, but I'll skip to the chase - I was right.

Mila, you're a different story. While I will bet that you too will keep your nose buried in books and I'm positive you're going to be a tumbling fool like the other one, I'm not sure what else you will be. I suspect that if I were to list a few thoughts, you would purposely go out of your way to prove me wrong. You're the defier of expectations and the queen of causing confusion. I could tell a million stories about all of the ways you've done a 180 for seemingly no reason.

For as much as you prefer to be unpredictable, there are a few things that are guaranteed. You will absolutely vocalize your opinion about everything. If you want to wear a jacket when it's 80 degrees outside, you're going to wear a jacket when it's 80 degrees outside. Assertive and vocal and opinionated, HOO BOY. You're eating junk food for dinner, the top of the table is so where you're supposed to sit, and forget trying to tell you to do anything that you weren't already planning to do.

You're quickly mastering that "I'm not doing it" thing. You graduated from just plain refusing to another level of trickery last week. I repeatedly told you to sit down in the cart at Target and you repeatedly told me where I could shove my concern for your safety. After going back and forth numerous times, you turned to me and flatly said, "Mommy bad."

Not you. You aren't bad for refusing to sit down. I'm bad for bossing you around.

I'd say "good luck with that" but I think the real people who are going to need a little luck are all of the rest of us.

Mila, you're beautiful and amazing and all sorts of unpossible. Melt it all together and you end up with the exact person we were missing from our lives.

Thanks for joining us.

Love,

Your Biggest Minion

(I just now noticed that Alexis was wearing a Minion tank top the second time she hung out with Mila. I'm blaming that for all of the one-eyed yellow creatures all over the house these days.)

Minion Cake

What's that? Mila's birthday is over? Oh. That's cute that anyone would think I would be done talking about it. We all know that I love to beat a good theme into the ground, and just because Mila isn't old enough to really care doesn't mean I'm going to stop.

EXCEPT SHE DID CARE. SO I RESPONDED APPROPRIATELY WITH ALL OF THE MINIONS.

And by "ALL OF THE MINIONS," I really mean "MINION CAKE!"

Why did no one tell me that fondant is easy to work with? I mean, it's basically edible Play-Doh. I can get firmly behind edible Play-Doh, even if I will always think cream cheese frosting is the bestest.

ANYWAY. The Minion cake was my first foray into fondant and it turned out to be time-consuming, but not difficult. I found a video to more or less follow and things worked out.

Actually, they more than worked out because Mila. Miss Mila spent her morning wandering between the kitchen and the dining room because there was a life-size Minion cutout in the dining room and I was in the kitchen. She was enthralled with the Minions in the dining room so she kept running to them to dance and to push them down.

Yes, I said "push them down." Mila had a whole thing going on in her head. It involved her saying, "No push, Mila!" right before she shoved them down to the floor. Then she would cackle with glee before saying, "Bad, Mila!" Lather, rinse, repeat. She told herself to not push them at least eleventy billion times and then pushed them down anyway every single time.

Long of the short, she knows when she's being a jerk. She just enjoys it muchly.

Between the pushing, Mila kept checking to see what I was doing. At first, it wasn't very interesting.

As time went on, it started to seem like it might turn into something interesting.

And then suddenly, it was everything. Mila pushed a chair to the counter, climbed up, and yelled, "IT'S A MINION!"

Do you know the relief that is someone recognizing a thing? Seriously. I breathed a huge sigh of relief because at least the 2 year-old knew what I was making. That had to be a sign that things were going well.

But then she crushed me. Mila studied the Minion and then said, "Where hair?" The look on her face was one of sadness and disappointment, so I HAD to put hair on the Minion.

Mila supervised.

When the hair was firmly implanted on the Minion's head, Mila applauded. Literally, SHE APPLAUDED. How's that for some serious appreciation?

And then she pushed me off of my high horse and started demanding "pretty." At first I thought she meant a pretty for her hair, but when I tried to oblige, the Tiny Human ripped my head off, fed it to some wolves, and then used it as a bowling ball. It was UGLY.

She meant a "pretty" for the Minion's hair. Which, OKAY!

When all was said and done, the Minion cake ended up on top of a regular cake, which was great because it meant I didn't have to let anyone eat the Minion. We cut into the regular cake and my little Minion went into the fridge.

She's staying there. I don't care who judges me, she's staying there because every time I open the fridge, I smile. It's really hard not to smile when greeted by a happy Minion.

As an extra special bonus, Mila knows the Minion is hiding in the fridge. She kept asking to see her all day. "Minion cake?" was her Memorial Day motto.

Each and every time I take Mila to the fridge to visit the Minion, I'm treated to a little, "Hi, Minion!"

So what I'm saying is that Mila has already figured out how to make sure I go nuts on her birthday every year. A little encouragement and gratitude goes a long way ...

Not Quite Sure About This Birthday Business