Three.

For two short hours, on one short day, 364 days in the making, I get to shower my sweet London with a birthday party. There is something really special about birthdays, in my opinion. It's a day set apart from all the rest, where as a mother, I can reflect on that blessed little girl God gave to me. This year, she was very clear: she wanted a fairy birthday.

We chose a clearing in a patch of trees by the lake, and set up tiny tables and chairs for her fairy friends to sit in.

I made each little boy and girl a head wreath made from wildflowers, and ordered fairy wings in all the colors of her party.

I cut stencils of tiny butterflies, filled them inside clear balloons, and tied the ends with pink tulle.

The tables were decorated with blush pink roses and wildflowers, and tiny pink crystals. London and her friends dined on pink mother-goose popcorn, ants on a log, fruit wands, sparkling strawberry-lemon punch, pixie stix, and funfetti fairy cupcakes.

London opened her presents, and the kids pranced around in the trees blowing bubble guns.

Sometimes, me and Kyle each pick one of her cheeks and we kiss it a thousand times, and London laughs and laughs. Once she settles down, she'll say, "Guys, thank you for my kisses!" When she does something naughty, London sends herself to time out, and returns after settling down, crying, "I'm sorry for not making good choices, Mom. I always want you." [ALWAYS is her way of saying "really" or "a whole lot"... I always love you, I'm always hungry, I always want to cuddle with you, etc.] She is thoughtful, graceful, particular, friendly, and jovial. She has a stutter that comes and goes every couple of weeks. London woke up the other morning and announced she "probably wanted spinach and broccoli for breakfast". I am in constant wonder of her growing mind and her desire to understand the world. I am in love with her tender spirit and her goodness. My baby girl is a 3-year-old.