this past Thursday.
We had a small party here at the house. Nine of Chris and I's friends came; all of them adults, no small children. He is only one, for goodness sake. His best friends right now are a stuffed horse named Bandit and Geoffrey, an equally squishy giraffe. Is that bad?
I wonder sometimes as a new parent, when do I start calling other children he has met his friends? When do I start inviting them to birthday parties? Do I wait for him to say, "Mom, I want to invite this person or that one."? Or will that not happen until he's like five? Do I choose friends for him until then? He's not in daycare, so we don't know too many other little ones. There are a couple of boys about his age at church, but is that association enough to make them his friends?
At any rate, we had a very nice party. He received many nice gifts; toys, books and clothes. The overall theme seemed to be toys that make noise. Which is interesting for two reasons. The first is: those are the kinds of toys Chris and I have always purchased for nieces and nephews, because we knew they had the potential to drive our siblings crazy (oh we are so there). The second is: Liam doesn't really care for toys that make noise. If you put all his toys out for him to choose, he goes for the soft, squishy silent type every time. I'm sure that will change, but so far, I like it.
Liam loves his books. Chris and I are ecstatic over this. Naturally he doesn't read yet, and only barely has an interest in us reading to him, but he loves the books. The feel of them, the weight of them, turning pages and just holding them. Chris and I are both book lovers and avid readers and it is one of our most cherished hopes that Liam will grow to love them and be a reader, too. We are on our way!
Celebrate with us. Our little boy turned one.
4 comments:
I'm doing my "Happy Birthday" dance.
Graciously, I have chosen not to do this in my birthday suit.
You must introduce this little light of my life to the greatest work of literature ever created: a book by Mo Willems entitled "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus."
Yes, you read it right. I proclaim here, in writing, that it is the greatest work of literature ever. Better by far than anything Tolstoy ever wrote. That man so desperately needed an editor ... but I digress.
"Pigeon" is a wonderfully illustrated tale of a pigeon who - stop me if you heard this - wants to drive the bus. You'll love it. Liam will love it. CJE will wonder where I've left my noggin. But I promise, you'll read it again and again.
And then you'll laugh when you remember that I keep a copy of it on my desk at work, in case I need to get inspired.
OK, so find him a copy and send it on over, for his birthday, belated, doncha know!
You found me!
A boy's horse should be his best friend.
He's a fine lookin' boy. He is blessed to have a fabulous mother like you.
You say "dontcha know" like a good Canadian! Love you!
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