A certain little girl is three years old today. To commemorate the anniversary of her express delivery thirty-six months ago today, we will spend the day with the rituals of Awarding of the Presents, Making A Big Hullabaloo About The Birthday Girl, and the Demolishing Of The Bear-Shaped Birthday Cake.
At three years of age, Lyra has a very distinctive personality. She’s pure Cutonium with a core of condensed Stubbornium. She loves Winnie-the-Pooh, cereal with marshmallows, and being launched on parabolic trajectories in the room with the high ceiling. She loves her big brother, her Mommy and Daddy, and her doggies.
I tried to take a picture of the newly minted three-year-old this morning, but she wouldn’t stand still long enough for a decent shot. (A picture of motion-blurred Lyra would be a good representation of her current physical state most of the time.) I’ll snap some pictures later, when she’ll have to be in one spot for a few seconds to unwrap her presents and have a bite of birthday cake.
Happy Birthday, little girl. We’re all very glad you joined the gang.