First Berfday

Who's got two thumbs, a wicked mohawk, a wooden spoon, and 12 months under his (figurative) belt?

This guy!

Actually, H's birthday was nearly two weeks ago, but in true I-am-on-my-fourth-child fashion, I am just now getting around to talking about this and posting pictures and making a half-hearted deal out of it.

What's hilarious about this is that H himself gets so much attention on a daily basis. So much. If he cries hard in bed, The Professor and I have him downstairs in a jiffy, milk and a midnight cracker snack at the ready. Then we sit together on the couch and gaze at him adoringly as he stuffs his face with crackers and blinks at us in a bleary sort of way. His brothers and sister play with him, pet him, kiss him (against doctor's orders--school has so many germs, y'all), and just generally adore him. He is always held. Our patience with him is limitless. The oldest three suffered from neglect as infants in comparison.

But to come to my blog, you may never know that, especially if you're a grandmotherly type who has been impatiently waiting for some sign that we actually celebrated his first birthday. We did, in fact, celebrate his first birthday. We actually combined his birthday and his cousin's birthday, as they are only six days apart, and my sister and I, child-weary as we are, agreed to make it low-key and fuss-less, since they are infants and completely clueless.

Also? Both boys were sick. So sick. H was on his third round of antibiotics for an ear/sinus/upper respiratory infection that had hung around for nearly a month, and The Godling had just started his own round of antibiotics for a sinus infection that made his eye swell up like he'd been stung by a bee. They were a sorry, snotty pair.

Birthdays are hard when you're sick.

 

 

My Sister the Goddess and I shared meal duties, and she chose cupcakes. King Peter was her special helper while my mom helped pick up kids, pick up medicine, and just generally be a great grandma.

 

 



After a good meal, we served the boys their cupcakes. And I'd like to note that the following two shots are courtesy of my husband, who apparently thought my sister's arms should be featured prominently.

Give me that cupcake, you freakishly long-armed woman!

Both boys were initially skeptical.

But the prospect of all that sweet, sweet icing eventually won them over to the cupcake side.

It's like the Dark Side, but with less choking and more cake.

Oh man, this guy just looks like he needs a nap. But here, honey, have a cupcake instead.

H got some clothes, some cash, and a ball. Said ball was the most awesome present ever because H loves a good ball and actually you could buy him all the fanciest toys in the world and he would scoot past them all in his earnest search for "Ball?" This ball is blue and large and spikey, so it wins the birthday.

We're done here folks, thanks for the ball, goodnight.

On the other side of the table, his cousin got pants...

...and a particularly moving Hallmark card that brought him to tears.

Then things quickly spiralled out of control.

In conclusion, it was an awesome birthday, and H can't wait for his next one. He's hoping he has some more hair by the time that one rolls around.

(Happy Birthday, darling one. Know by the chapped ring extending from the back of your neck all the way around to your chubby cheeks that you are very, very loved by kiss-happy people.)