My daughter, the three year old

My little Carmen Mairead turned three a few days ago. At 5am, our time, phone calls started pouring in from a very confused Time Difference: my family. I blocked the calls until 7, when Carmen came pattering into our room with her hippo and giraffe, saying "Tomorrow it's my birthday."
"Today," Michael said, " It's today your birthday. Happy birthday my girl."
"Today is candles!" Carmen screamed, as if the best thing about turning three was the fact she would get to blow out the three Disney Princess candles my mom had brought her.
The other night changing Conor's diaper, I had seen Carmen in the playroom with the cake she had made at French playgroup. Letting Conor crawl in behind me, I poked my head around the door, and asked Carmen what she was doing.
"Blowing candles, mommy, because it's soon my birthday and on my birthday I'll get to blow real candles out, ones with fire."
Carmen's vocabularly in French and English has just improved to Long Sentences, especially Long Sentences that talk about Candles or Fire or Presents.

At 9pm, Carmen was lying on the floor sound asleep with a balloon tied to her wrist, and the Tornado of birthday wrapping paper surrounding her. The adults, especially Michael and I who had executed the Birthday DInner and Birthday Drinks, were also asleep on the couch beside Carmen.
We woke up early, still in the family room, with Michael's mom opening the curtains. Our newly three year old sat up, rubbed her eyes and said, "WOW! Look at this mess, maman and papa! This is going to take All Day to clean this!"