So, on the 30th of March, my beautiful boy turned one.
I'd spent two whole days and a ridiculous amount of money making his cake.
Countless hours making food, searching the internet for ideas for presents and party ideas.
And lost hours of sleep thinking about the big day.
I know he won't remember. And I know he didn't have a clue what was going on. But I had a good day!
He woke up to a small pile of presents in a ball pit, which he proceeded to throw out and bury himself in the balls, and got very excited. He then ran around like a loon before collapsing with Daddy Bear in front of Peppa Pig. Then, I went off to Nanny Bear's, where I was holding his party as my house is tiny, and made lots of party food which was placed around The Cake.
The Cake was made with my own blood sweat and tears. It was a two-tiered affair, with white fondant icing and a Very Hungry Caterpillar wiggling around the outside. And I must say, I am very proud of my efforts. But I am not making another cake as long as I live. Bloody thing.
Then the famiyl arrived. And I was thrown so many presents I have no idea what came from whom... and then Lucas started to cry. he threw his milk on the floor, refused all food he was given and wouldn't let anybody hold him. Anybody else thinking naptime for the birthday boy?
Anyway, after a nap he blew out his candles (or I did) and people started leaving.
It went so fast I almost regretted spending that much time on it! But he had a lovely day and conked out for about 14 hours straight that night!
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