A few days ago, I waxed poetic about a birthday party we'd had last weekend. I was feeling pretty smart about my role in the big family effort. Now I'm this close to beating myself up.
Can you believe that we took no photos? Not a photo of the rabbit hole, not of the dormouse-themed table, not of the girls painting teapots, not of the girls decorating their tea party hats, not of any member of the family, not of the cupcakes, not of the mountain of presents, not of the moms and dads, not of the surreptitious beer-sipping. No photo exists other than the ones Bruce took of the guests in their hats, not including the birthday girl or her sister, the Queen of Hearts in a dark brown wig.
How do you spell "lament"?