On our 4th wedding anniversary, when E was but a half-cooked wombling, M and I spent a celebratory long weekend on Smith Island, an isolated bump in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. Smith Island is a car-free island. It has the tiniest and cutest post office I've ever seen. Its residents have a strong and unique dialect of speech. It has its own style of cake.
Smith Island cake (photo from link above).
I tell you this because I believe in cake, and in dessert in general. I believe in guardian angels, life on other planets, and stomach-to-uterus osmosis.
And I believe in bold graphic design. I have loved watching E learn how to write her letters not just for the pride of accomplishment but for the creativity she's applied. She fills her pages with 8.5" letters, with 11" words. Her As look like lollipops and her Es: she told me the E letter wasn't very silly with just three lines. So she made her Es silly. And now they look like:
They look like I'm craving some chocolate frosting.