Yesterday was Anna’s birthday party, and did she have fun?
Why yes, yes she did. Balloons and laughter and lots of laps to cuddle on and OMG the new toys. Her first taste of refined sugar was a hit (she took one bite of icing, her eyes lit up and, as you can see above, with no further ado she grabbed for the cupcake and jammed it in her mouth.) She finished the whole thing, and I have no idea how since I’m quite certain her stomach is smaller than a cupcake and there must have been some shifting of less essential internal organs. Must.Maintain.Squishiness.Of.Cheeks!
I love this age so much, I think it’s got to be my favorite. Anna has so much personality, she actually flirts with anyone who pays attention to her, giving these sly little smiles like she knows she’s cute as hell. You can’t resist me, can you. You know you want to give me that cookie, then carry me in your arms to Toys ‘R Us and fill your cart with flashy-light toys that sing annoying songs in the voices of adults failing in their attempts to sound like children. Wouldn’t it make you so happy? Really, if you think about it, I’d be doing it for YOU, not for me!
There’s something so awesome about having everyone you pass melt when they see your child. You get so used to being ignored, nobody meeting your eye because eye-contact is stalkerish, everybody’s so intent on going wherever they’re going and getting done whatever they’re getting done. But when you’re carrying a child they STOP, and they COO, and THEIR UTERUSES MELT. Anna’s smile makes people instantly happy, and it’s such a simple, pure kind of happiness. (But a sidenote to the lady at Pennington Market the other day who leaned into Anna’s face and caressed her cheek oohing and aahing, then turned away before hearing Anna freak out at the invasion of her personal space: Who does that? Not Cool.)
It’s slowly sinking in that our baby is no longer a baby. Although she’s not a toddler until she actually TODDLES, right? And throws temper tantrums and reaches into her diaper so she can smear poop on the walls. This at least is what I tell myself. I will call her a crawl-dler. (Do you see what I did there? I crack myself up.)
It’s not even the idea of toddler years that get to me, it’s the realization of how fast this year passed and that tomorrow she’ll be thirteen and on the phone every night to laugh with friends about how annoying I am and OMG kissing boys…Kids grow up so fast these days, wearing bras at eight and dating at nine and getting pregnant at ten. I mean, look!
Luckily, her final verdict was “Meh.”