To the trial and blessing of my life.

Tomorrow, I gain a three year old. Or, to paraphrase a popular saying: I'm not gaining a three year old, I'm losing a two year old. We can only hope the three year old model will come with a bit more maturity and a bit less drama. I'm betting not. But despite the fact that she regularly has us gnashing our teeth and scoping out behavioral schools (for children, not dogs. Unless they'll take her at the dog schools. She'd have a great time chasing the dogs), we've become rather attached to our little Madeline and her antics. She regularly keeps us in stitches. In honor of her day of birth, here's a tribute to our little trouble maker. With pictures! Oh, the excitement!
Once upon a time there was a young, stunningly good-looking couple who were eagerly anticipating their first delightful progeny. And of course had no idea what they were getting into.


After a lot of unimportant laboring and stuff, there was born to them this pretty little specimen of babyhood. She was sweet. Innocent. Adorable. Totally in charge of their lives. Also naked quite often, but when you're counting your age in days or weeks, no one minds much.


She grew in cuteness and fatness and loudness. Especially in loudness. The young couple wasn't getting much sleep, or silence, but they forgave her because she was very skilled in the art of making friends and brainwashing. She lived the high life. New outfits ten times a day, all the food she wanted as long as it was milk, and her very own personal photographer.Over time she developed that terrible power that parents fear and dread: mobility. And became even cuter, if that was possible. And got in heaps more trouble. But her parents continued to bail her out of jail time after time, because they loved the little stinker.

Then, the girl began to walk and talk and use her powers of persuasion and seduction to swindle her parents out of a lot of money and presents. And "uh oh" became the word of the day. But her happy smile and ability to show off in all environments kept her popular with her fans and movie critics.
Realizing she could no longer glide by on her looks and engaging personality, Madeline began to develop her other talents, becoming accomplished in sports, music, and awesome hair styles.

Understanding that knowledge was the key to a happy future, she also undertook to improve her mind, save her soul, and plan for her eventual coup of world governments.

She also worked on her culinary skills, although she refused to make any recipes that did not include goldfish, chocolate, or salad. Her fame as a homemaker and domestic diva soon surpassed even that of her super-star mother, no mean feat.

Despite her meteoric rise to fame, wealth and greatness, she still took time to enjoy family, the outdoors, and the simple things in life. She was never demanding or ridiculously hard to please. Unless it happened to be any day of the week except Thursday. And very often on Thursdays as well. Because there is nothing special about Thursday.


After three years of tireless effort and a little bit of luck, her many notable accomplishments included, but were not limited to: Dressing herself with style, sisterhood, memorization of the Rapunzel CD, partial toilet training, horse-back-daddy riding prowess, knowledge of the ABC's, numbers 1-10, and an odd smattering of colors, her own reality television show airing exclusively at Warner Studios, and a loving heart and precocious spirit.


The happy parents agreed that while the first three years had only narrowly been survived, they were happy years that could never be traded. Madeline had endeared herself to all, accomplished everything that could be reasonably expected of an independent and stubborn toddler, and avoided all sticky ends with her charm and exasperating cuteness. The moral of the story: We love Madeline. In all her mischievous glory. Happy birthday, punk. Mommy loves you.