I spent tonight virtually the same way I spent the night one year ago today: holding my baby boy in the darkness, kissing his sweet head, and marveling over how I could be so blessed. A year ago he was teeny, with dark, straight hair, all curled up and sleeping soundly. One year and 16 lbs heavier, he’s got wavy, light brown hair, and he’s wriggling and giggling. But the feelings are the same.
The big bash was yesterday. We had 2 Grandpas, Abuela, Aunt Ana, and an assortment of baby friends here to celebrate. It was a pretty laid-back affair with bbq, baked beans, mac-n-cheese, and of course, cake. Here’s the cake I made for the big people:
Eli had his own tiny cake. He approached it just as he approaches everything: very cautiously. When he determined that it was for real, and that no one was going to yank this beautiful food away, he very neatly and delicately picked at it. It didn’t get much messier than this:
And now I just realized that I’ve posted the exact same picture twice. My brain has officially called it the end of a day. Happy Birthday, sweet boy. We all love you to pieces and pieces and pieces.