Quinceanera

I have pointed out to Avocado that we are not of hispanic descent in any wise. But she is still making a big deal of the fact that in a few hours she will be 15. Milking it is, I believe, the technical term for what she's doing. But she's getting homemade cinnamon rolls in the morning, and a visit from her buddy Elizabeth at school, and cake, and dinner out. Oh, and presents.

Meanwhile, as she was out sick on Thursday and Friday and still coughing up a storm yesterday, and we have told her that, regardless of her natal status, the dog is NOT sleeping in her room tonight. Which means I have to go upstairs now and extract Emily from her room.

Happy birthday, you pain-in-the-butt 15-year-old. I'm proud of you even when I want to whack you upside the head.