David celebrated his first birthday yesterday. All the grandparents sent wonderful gifts, and David enjoyed ripping off the paper and stomping (with his siblings) on the bubble wrap. He's a grabby-hands motorboat of a boy, with the lightning-quick movements of a defensive-minded basketball guard, and so he stuck his hand at the single candle of his small round birthday cake before we could blink. No burn, fortunately, just a little wax and a quizzical look on his face.
We (which means everyone but me) let David fist his piece of cake. And everyone (but me) giggled as he naturally smeared it all over his face trying to eat it. Not that i'm a stone-hearted schoolmeister or anything, just that such a spectacle is the province of the red-necked, in my book. And so the only things missing were birthday gifts of lottery scratch-offs and middle-of-the-day longnecks.
But i digress. This day was about our youngest child, not as young as he once was, growing up. He's quite a guy. Nearby you'll find a photo of him, taken yesterday on his birthday. Happy Birthday, son!
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