The party’s over.

It was a good one. If I was one to nitpick, I’d say that there was not enough candy in the pinata, the music guys flopped (7 and 9 year olds are too old for “Five Little Monkeys”), the coffee was bad, and what was I thinking, skipping the adult beverages?!

Minutes before guests were set to arrive, as I was scurrying around ripping off wrappers and shoving flowers into jars, Annabelle eyed the pile of pink bakery boxes on the table and informed me in no uncertain terms that I should have made the cupcakes myself.

But otherwise, it was good. Sophie was happy. At one point, my friend Mrs. M. looked around and announced she’d never seen so many kids at a birthday party. It’s true. Sophie’s pretty popular. (Plus I invited a crapload of kids.) She was surrounded by friends as she whacked the pinata, got her face painted and ran around (and around and around) the house.

A couple of the girls from her class hugged her when the sparkler on her chocolate cupcake scared her a little as we all sang Happy Birthday.

It was a good day. But not a transcendent one. I didn’t get teary or philosophical. I simply threw a birthday party.

That’s more than okay.

The other day, Ray was talking about how cute and smart Sophie is and he stopped and sighed and announced, “Yeah, these are Sophie’s salad years.”

He’s right. By the time puberty hits — heck, maybe even by the time third grade hits — things will change for our “different” child. You know the drill. But for now, damnit, I’m going to enjoy it.

That said, I think that was the last free-for-all party. None of the real mayhem was captured on film, so you’ll have to take my word for it: There was mayhem. Toward the end, during the opening of an insane amount of presents, Ms. X (pictured below with the birthday girl) caught my eye, nodded wisely and said, “Maybe this should be the last one like this.”

I agree completely. At least, today I do. Remind me in 45 or weeks, or so, when I’m in the thick of party planning.

Here are a few pictures.