Kylie was the star of her own birthday party today, and she didn’t even know it. She knew there were a lot of people in her house when she woke up from her nap, but she took it in stride. She talked (in that gnomish language she uses), she walked (two whole steps, I saw it!), and she smeared frosting on her face (I have pictures). She showed more genuine interest in her presents than some people many times her age (which, by the way, is one).

She was adorable in her Raggedy Ann and Andy dress, and she made full use of that engagingly shy smile she has. And when she wasn’t smiling, she was laughing the deep belly laugh of the truly amused. There isn’t anything that escapes her notice, and even when she thought no one was paying attention to her, all she did was take in everything that was going on around her. And she wasn’t overwhelmed by anything, not the vast throngs of adoring fans or the whirlwind of activity as her brothers and their friends played boisterously.

I have to hand it to the adults, too. Part of the reason she wasn’t overwhelmed is because people respected her space. And although there were presents, she wasn’t laden down with more toys than she’ll ever use. Everything she got was useful and appropriate. Sometimes we go overboard trying to buy things for children who need us to give them our time more than our money. Kylie’s friends (and her parents and their friends) know the difference.

It was a good party, but it took its toll on me. It was actually a birthday “brunch,” which was timed to (a) be held between Kylie’s and Aiden’s nap times, and (2) allow everyone else to get on with the other things that busy people have to do on a typical late summer Saturday. In my case, what it meant was that (a) I had to get up way too early on a weekend, and (2) when I got home I collapsed in the recliner and was unable to move (or keep my eyes open) for several hours. But it was a small price to pay to honor the princess.