A few weeks ago, Iris turned three.

Naturally, there was a party. The party was at a gym for kids. High jinks ensued.

Climbing.

Bouncing.

Dancing.

Rolling a big blue ball.

Tearing across the room on a zip line.

Hiding in a barrel like a rodeo clown.

Rolling in a barrel like the least popular kid in the schoolyard.

And then there was the big box of balls.

Needless to say, they were a hit.

Our friend Lauren was there with her new small child Oliver. He seemed wary of the balls.

And so I rescued him.

I’m going to need the practice.

Then Robbi had a turn.

Both of us had forgotten how small they are at the start.

We were all having so much fun that we entirely forgot the reason we were there in the first place. But then we were reminded in spectacular fashion. Suddenly, Iris appeared on the far end of the room riding on a rolling platform adorned with balloons and pompoms, carrying a glittery princess wand, and sporting butterfly wings.

As we sang in her honor, she was presented with a cupcake.

It was an excellent party. Thank you, Iris, for turning three. Thank you, Christian and Emily, for being such outstanding parents. Thank you, Kato, for being such a good pupil and eating cupcakes exactly as I taught you.

That’s my boy.