So my sweet baby boy is now a full-fledged toddler. I always thought that term was reserved for those who were actually toddling, versus my young'un who has only now started tippy-toeing while holding on to the couch, but apparently "toddler" is the proper term for those older than 1 year. (Which begs the question, When are they considered children? My vote is 3, or whenever they start getting particularly pesky.) His birthday was a bit of a rag-tag event, lacking much in the way of presents (from his parents, at least. Grandma and grandpa took up the slack) and guests (I sense a lifelong issue, his birthday being so close to Christ-mukkah) and mostly notable for my disasterous attempt at making a healthy birthday cake (that ubiquitous carrot cakey job every mother seems to have cribbed off the internet). Luckily he didn't have anything to compare it to. Plus we offered a distraction in the form of his first balloon. Boy oh boy, was that a hit! (Once he got over the disappointment of not being allowed to pinch it.)
Cover it with enough frosting (organic cream cheese + plain, whole milk yogurt + a touch of powdered sugar = surprisingly tasty stuff) and anything is edible.
Requisite face-in-cake shot. Always a winner.
Then - CHRISTMAS! We got a bit of a late start (well, with the gifting part. The actual start was the usual bright and early) and it was fun and adorable and this and that, but I cannot WAIT until the boy is old enough to come tearing into the room. As cute as it is to have a baby around for Christmas it's a touch anti-climactic to hand over a present, only to get blinked at. But really, it was great. We ordered Chinese and watched "A Christmas Story" and felt terribly cozy and cosmopolitan until I got the stomach flu and bleagh.
But I have a toddler, a little apricot of a toddler! (And a birth story to finish. I'll get right on that.)