Yesterday was the Beignet's birthday.
It's been a year since she made her grand entrance. It seems like it can't have been twelve whole months since then, but at the same time it's hard to remember what things were like before she was here.
Joon and MJ threw a party at the Senior Fartersons' house. I walked in to see about six thousand kids running around.
(My ovaries immediately seized up, and my uterus whipped out the Do Not Disturb sign.)
After the first couple of presents, the Beignet was an old hand at pulling the gifts out of their bags.
She really liked her new Sit n Spin, though she preferred standing on it to sitting (or spinning).
She had a
I recognized it immediately: that uncomfortable, almost paranoiac feeling that comes with being the center of attention.
It's like that time we took my dad to the Mexican restaurant for his birthday and the servers came out and plopped a giant sombrero on his head and sang to him (loudly) in Spanish. He turned redder than red and has refused, from that time onward, to go to any restaurant to celebrate his birthday. I don't blame him; I feel exactly the same and I always insist on having my birthday at home.
My dad and I cope with our social embarrassment with deep blushes and fake smiles; the Beignet, because she doesn't know about those yet, did the only thing she could do to get away from everybody staring at her: she started to cry and WHOOMP! her mom whisked her off to her bedroom. Mission accomplished.
She felt much better later, when everybody went home, and she got to play in this awesome indoor playground that her grandma got her.
"I totally wasn't trying to get away from YOU, Aunt Mei! All those other people made me nervous!"
"Geez, Aunt Mei, PICTURE BOOKS??!!?? Give me a little credit please! Where's my copy of Anna Karenina?"