Babysitting last night was awesome, as expected.
We started out by playing duck-duck-goose on the trampoline. I couldn't catch anyone. Our circle was so small that by the time I got up from the seated position, the goose was already around the loop and sitting down again. When I playfully asked, "Why can't I catch anyone?" I knew the logistics of our small circle were to blame, but the girls also informed me, "Because you're old!"
When I told them that this Sunday is my birthday ("27!? That's so old!"), they decided they needed to host a birthday party for me. I picked out outfits for everyone and did their makeup. Then, while two of the girls "decorated" the living room (draped scarves over the TV, hung an open, upside-down umbrella from the chandelier, set stuffed animals up on the couch), I got a makeover for the party. It was epic.
Five applications of lipgloss, most of which ended up INSIDE my mouth. Glitter stick all over my face and neck and chest. Red and blue hair mascara. Neon pick blush on my cheeks and jaw. Perfume. And "eyeliner." When they were done the first time, the verdict was, "Oh my word, that does NOT look good. You're a mess."
A case of Wet Wipes and three do-overs later, I was presentable for the party.
I was treated to a Miley Cirus dance party ("Party in the USA" on loop), then half of the guests left early to go play Barbies, then the remaining guests performed a 20-minute ballet to Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway."
Best birthday ever.