Last night we transformed the house into Le Cafe Anniversaire to celebrate Savannah's birthday.
There were white cloths and red roses for the tables, twinkle lights and candles in mason jars flickering on the shelves and fireplace, and maps of Paris on the walls.
There was brie and croissants and herbed goat cheese and sparkling french lemonade.
And soda in a bottle.
There was a chocolate cake topped with an Eiffel tower and served with french vanilla ice cream.
And in the background there was La Mer by Charles Trenet (which only gets better with time) and Je Ne Sais Qui Fumer performed by Paris Combo, a (shocking) personal favorite of the birthday girl.
There were charming guests who spoke only French for the first fifteen seconds of the party with plenty of "Bonjours" and "Ooo la la's" to go around.
There was dancing and talking and wild, boisterous games of chance.
And in the center of it all, there was a nine-year-old girl who was lit up like Paris at night.