fifteen

Her favorite color changes with the wind. You wouldn’t have guessed it, though, based on her party decorations.

I started a board on Pinterest and asked her to join me in pinning ideas–details that would make her party unforgettable.  As the board filled–with both her pins and mine–I noticed a trend: pink.

There was an ombre rose cake.  What color do you want it? I asked.  Gray and silver she said.  Or Pink.  That pink looks nice.

I went with pink more because I didn’t trust my tinting abilities with something darker.  Only I ran out of white frosting so the ombre was disrupted by a blinding hot pink bouquet front and center.  Oh well.

There were balloons.  So many that I had to call in long-winded reinforcements.  {No offense, Torri}.  We served pizza and cherry-pink 7-UP.  7-Up for seven giggly teen girls.  They giggled while they ate.  The long line of them shiver-giggled as they stood waiting for the hot tub.  And then they hushed each other, giggling late into the night.

There was a gift I cannot imagine ever having asked for, though it topped her wish list.  A unicorn mask.

There were cake batter pancakes the next morning, served with a smothering of breakfast frosting, if there is such a thing.  This is what they serve in heaven, I overheard.

They quickly dressed and took the unicorn mask out for a spin, acting silly charades out as cars passed inquisitively by.  There was more giggling, I presume.

At fifteen, no longer stuck in the middle, but kind of she is.