This daughter is a pink girl.
Last month, she looked like this.
And just a couple of weeks ago, she looked like this.
I think this was just last week.
And these must have been yesterday.
And this was taken the night we were at Severance Hall listening to Cleveland orchestra.
And this is the photo that made me realise that yes, I am getting old.
You see, mirrors, into which we look each day, are pliable, but photos Do. Not. Lie.
This was her this morning, surrounded by pink balloons, having her hot chocolate and toast taken to her side, and reading...er, hang on! Is that a cookery book Katie's reading?!
No, surely not, not our Katie.
"Oi, Katie - is that really a book about cooking you're reading?"
"Er, may I ask a couple of questions....
Are you well?
What happened to you overnight?
Who are you, and where's the real Katie?"
This was her choice of cake. Catherine made it for her,
dutifully made it into a Birthday Cake, and
Katie will huff and will puff, and will...
yep, blow them all out!
Please don't tell anyone this, but Catherine has now made a Chocolate cake to have for when the Builder comes home. I am not kidding, but the first cake Is No More.
We are all suitably ashamed. But we're licking our lips too.