One year, people—and a celebration was in order.
Baxter is a May 2-4 baby, which ensures he will party hearty in years to come (hopefully when I’m hard of hearing), but last weekend he was content to walk about pleasantly stunned as people assisted him in opening presents. To me, a twelve-month-old human really can’t comprehend the intentions of a good party. Obviously it’s to celebrate the parent’s (mostly mother’s) survival, hence the punch with punch.
Ironically, Amy chose to prepare an enormous spread. For a solid week she was up late in the kitchen. She’ll even admit it got away from her a bit. She’s not experienced in food service and she really had a mountain of prep work complete but no real plan to present said delectables. When asked for help, she was unable to respond. Is there a culinary equivalent to ‘shell shock?’ Once removed from the war room, she was able to relax and watch everyone snack and enjoy.
As Baxter will have no memory of this occasion, our goal was to catch up with family and friends. Reconnect. It was a lovely sunny day on the deck and everyone had a great time. I am reminded as to how generous our friends are. Especially now, looking at Baxter’s toy pile.
Toys are tools for children—apparently critical for development. In Baxter’s case, he is developing an ear for which toy will smash louder. Meanwhile, his young friends have learned to open, assemble, play with and ‘borrow’ the shiny new toys (some call it parallel play), while BB blissfully crash tests whatever is closest. I suppose there’s education in that.