Our sweet boy turned one.
The momentous event was ushered in with a low-key but sweet celebration with The Grandmas and The Grandpas. Errol was presented with his very own cake, that rite of passage marking the first birthday. His cake, though, was a minor nutritional triumph, bearing beets in equal proportion to the chocolate. (it’s a family favorite) We all waited to see how he’d react to the sunshine-frosted cake placed before him, perched at the edge of our seats, holding our breath. He did not disappoint; he performed brilliantly. It strikes me as not all that different from other cultures’ ceremonial attempts to predict the future for the baby, placing before him or her a selection of objects. Tradition holds that the object first chosen portends the life the child will grow into – choosing a pencil foretells a scholarly future, the string – a long life.
And how will you, Errol, approach this thing called life, this delicious cake metaphor for The Future?
With relish. With both hands. With focus and concentration, when needed. With an impish grin, marveling at the unbelievable good fortune before you. With an enveloping circle of love, surrounded by family and adoring eyes. What a life you have before you, little one.
May you find joy till the last crumb and may you wear that joy all over your face.
The knit blanket that I started while he swam in my uterine sea was wrapped, then unwrapped. We remembered his dramatic birth. Captain Daddio led us by harmonica in singing Happy Birthday, a now-tradition that began with my birthday. It was a lovely celebration for the little boy who’s brought so much joy and laughter and sweet baby chub to our lives.
Together now, let’s roll up our sleeves and dig in.