It's official: Avery is twelve. Well, strictly speaking she will not be twelve until 11:31 p.m. New York time, but I'm being magnanimous. She has had her favorite banana apple cake for breakfast, her favorite chocolate mud pudding for lunch, and I brought her white camellias at school pickup. Her friends forced their ultra-conservative music teacher to play a very elaborate rendition of "Happy Birthday," and everyone sang (except the teacher, Avery snorts). As soon as John gets home we'll open presents, and then head around the corner to Chez Kristoff for her favorite dinner, steak frites. I daresay tomorrow will be a letdown, a bit of an anticlimax, but for now, the world's her oyster. Happy birthday, darling.
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