I just finished my first year and it’s been great. Twelve months ago, all I could do was lay there and cry. Now I can walk around and cry.
I actually laugh and smile a lot more than I cry. The only time I get upset is when I’m hungry, or I’m tired, or my Daddy tries to be funny on my blog.
I can’t wait until I’m old enough to do it myself.
On my actual birthday, I got to hang out with Mommy most of the day. Then Daddy came home and they sang Happy Birthday to me. They also sang Happy Birthday to me the second I woke up, but I don’t remember that too well.
After church, some of the family there stayed after and had some cupcakes. They sang Happy Birthday to me too.
I guess that makes your birthday kind of like a musical. At any point during the day, people can spontaneously burst out into song. There wasn’t any dancing, but maybe that happens during your second birthday.
On Saturday, my grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins came over to my house. They strapped me in my little chair, put me on the kitchen table, and they also sang to me. I’m glad that eventually the birthday celebration does actually taper off. I’m not sure what could have happened if things kept escalating like that. (That’s why I look a little uneasy in most of the photos. You have to understand, I had no idea what to expect.)
I got a bunch of cool stuff. I got my own big fat cupcake that Mommy made for me.
Everyone had cupcakes.
The dogs seemed very excited about this too.
After a while, everyone went home and I babbled like a maniac for about a half-hour. Then I suddenly felt very exhausted.
Mommy and Daddy helped me go to sleep.
I have to say—this one particular time, I had mixed feelings when they didn’t sing to me.