I'm a bit behind on my blogging, I think; the squirt's first birthday was over two weeks ago.
Much food was consumed, including the lad eating more refined sugar at one sitting than I'll bet he's seen on an accumulative basis in his life if you count what his parents eat.
It was funny watching his Mom and a couple of grandmothers trying to restrain themselves as he explored his first birthday cake. He didn't get as messy as I did on my first, but his cake wasn't as brown as mine was.
But these women, who haven't let him stay dirty for ten seconds in the past year, having to hold back and let him slop frosting and cake all over himself were hilarious. I was jealous, I can't remember the last time I put food in my hair.
When he smeared it in his eyes and got distressed, the game was over and they swooped in to tidy up.
He got a motorcycle, or I guess it's supposed to be one of those personal four-wheelers, that reminded me an awful lot of the first toy I wore completely out. Mine was made to look motorcycle-ish intstad of Polaris-ish, but when I was done the plastic wheels were worn through to be two discs clutching a cheap, rusty axle.
My gift, I got him the most important book of all time even if he's too young to understand it: Yertle the Turtle. That's everything you need to know in life by the time you step into a voting both, true story.
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