Nana’s birthday was Sunday. K prepared the requisite ritual (the cake); L helped decorate it.

We took a novel approach to the birthday wishes. Or perhaps that should have been “took we an approach novel.” It’s a cake designed to be read while approaching it at very high speed in an appropriately-scaled vehicle.

Nana made a wish,

and Papa got his own wish fulfilled.

Reading The Sleepy Puppy to his granddaughter thirty-five years after he first read it to me, he didn’t laugh as hard but I’m certain the joy was as intense.