But I certainly wasn't crying. In fact, I was so happy and excited that I didn't quite know what to do with myself. Not that I wanted an actual party this year - as I repeatedly told Mommy, all I wanted for my birthday was for Cinderella to come to my house and hang out with me. It did not really matter if I had any friends over, or a cake or anything else, as long as I had Cinderella. 
This worked out nicely for Mommy because somehow during our potty training phase I got it into my head that once I started using the potty, and after my birthday, I would be going to Disney World. It started out innocently enough with Mommy saying something about Cinderella and other princesses wearing big girl underwear, and escalated into Mommy promising me a trip to Disney. So Mommy was feeling like a terrible parent about to dash the dreams of a young child - not to mention any trust I would ever have in her - in realizing that there was no way we could swing a trip to Florida any time before the baby comes. So she told me that Cinderella could com
e to our house instead of us going to her house right now. (In my defense, I bought this trade-off because I am just turning three - give me 6 months and it won't be such an easy sell.) 
Anyway, that is how I got a birthday party at my house (which probably cost more in money and aggravation than a fiesta at El Arca) with 10 buddies, a face painter, a pinata and an hour long visit from (a very Mexican looking) Cinderella who performed a little show, danced with me, sang me "Happy Birthday," played in my room and carried me until my heart's content.By the way, I have 100% overcome my fear of hitting the pinata. It is not even the c
andy and toys falling out of it that caused this change of heart - somehow I have just come to love beating objects with a stick and singing the pinata song. Mommy thinks that if she jumps on the chance, she may get me to start playing sports like softball, or at the very least T-Ball - so long as someone is singing in the background, "Dale, dale dale."
andy and toys falling out of it that caused this change of heart - somehow I have just come to love beating objects with a stick and singing the pinata song. Mommy thinks that if she jumps on the chance, she may get me to start playing sports like softball, or at the very least T-Ball - so long as someone is singing in the background, "Dale, dale dale." 
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