This weekend we celebrated Molly.
We made gold crowns and delicious cocktails.
We hid in corners and we yelled surprise.
We ate and ate, and Arlo just slept in that swing of his for hours while I played bartender.
The next morning there was brunch and more golden crowns,
and when we finally could manage to stuff ourselves just a little bit more,
we headed to our town's new Mexican restaurant for dinner.
Papa holding court.
Molly composing herself post-surprise.
Drink station.
The birthday girl, me, my mama, my sister Claire, and papa duck.
Post-party brunching.
Happy birthday to my sister who has seen all three of my babies eneter this world,
and who holds my little baby boy for me while I'm away at work.
Happy birthday to the sister who wore the same tie-dye and
zebra striped leggings for the better part of a year.
Happy birthday to the sister who is great at unflattering accents,
and who is endlessly compassionate,
and who is super stinkin' beautiful.
I love you Molly Beezer. Happy birthday.
I love this post and my sisters. Although I may not tell you often enough, you are a really good one Rachel.
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