Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Turning two






It was a while back, when we were in France, that T technically turned two. He woke that morning and came down saying 'My birthday! My birthday!' and singing Happy Birthday to himself. We had no cards or presents to give him that day, instead just a little pink cake decorated like a pig and topped with two candles. He seemed happy enough.

But we felt bad. It's a cliche we're living out here, every so often saying 'oh, poor T, remember what we did for A when he was that age?' and realising T has just a tiny percentage of the attention we gave our firstborn. Sure, he gets lots of other things A never had, like a big brother to look up to, a constant playmate, oodles of non-age appropriate toys to destroy, but that also means he spends most of his time with bigger kids.

So we threw him a party - toddlers only - and he loved it. No theme, just fun and sweet and small - five tiny friends. The sun shone. We passed that parcel. A neighbour left out a toy tractor on the street and we nabbed it. We gave him a vintage Fisher Price record player (and tried not to sob at 'Edelweiss'). I dip-dyed marshmallows, for heaven's sake. Play dough was pummeled. We messed about with a giant 2-shaped helium balloon. Kids ate a lot of sugar. Then went to bed grubby, over-tired, and very, very contented.
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My photographs: 1-3, 5
Alice Hendy's photographs: 4, 6-13
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