April Twenty-fourth

 

I still find it funny when people assume Zeke is here because John and I were dying to have a boy-child.  I jokingly tell them that we were in the middle of such a great run of girls when he decided to step in and show us that little boys aren't too shabby, either.  He is the sweetest baby.  This past year has flown by, and we wouldn't trade him for a dozen girls.

We usually have my parents up for birthday parties, but unlike those who pull out all the stops for first birthday parties, I usually slap together a cake right before bed.  That's it.  Sometimes (okay, most times) we don't even give a present.   This isn't because I'm a Meanie Who Doesn't Love Her Children but rather because of a perhaps too practical observation that babies don't appreciate all the hooplah; they just love the cake.

Zeke loved the cake all right.  The girls directed me in the decoration; it needed to have a Honeybuckle Bear on it, because the baby who was Honeybuckle on the inside has become "Zekie Bear" on the outside.  They all wanted the belt buckle and honey jar, Piper suggested the crown and sneakers, and I added the girly curlicues, to Zeke's someday shame. (What do I know?  He's our first boy!)

Ezekiel was so disgusted by the curlicues that he took the first chance he saw to step on the cake.  Atta boy, Zeke!

Then, right before bed, we celebrated one year of Ezekiel's life by letting him stuff himself full of sugar.  I've never seen a baby tear through cake that fast.

We love you beyond words, Piggy.  

 

 (And here are the pictures singly, Mom O., in case you want to print any.)