The rest of the story

It may be my duty to tell you - in the interest of honesty and full disclosure of moments when I am a schmuck of a parent and truth in mommy blogging, etc. - that seconds after taking the adorable photo of Nate sitting at a picnic table, staring awestruck at his first whole chocolate cupcake, surrounded by his siblings and the children of our close friends merrily singing Happy Birthday in an beautific, Rockwellian first birthday scene, he biffed backward spectacularly and landed flat on his back in the soft, padded, rife with the aroma of summer, green grass.

An event which I should have seen coming from a mile away, but missed in my eagerness to deliver the chocolate cupcake myself while his father snapped photos of his delighted, excited, chocolate besmeared face.

And then, nature was stroking his face with her gentle tendrils and touching his back and his legs and ohmigod, you heathens, it's everywhere; it's touching me; it's eating me.

I'M MEEEEELLLLLLTING!!!!

(Down. Because I didn't nap and mommy wouldn't put me to bed because she had to have her thrice-damned pictures of my mouth covered in chocolate. It's all about her, people, stop believing the charade. Sob.)

SOB. HOWL. CHOKE. WHIMPER.

Did I give up? Of course not. Because I have pictures of both of his brothers covered in chocolate at their first birthdays and his sister covered in chocolate at her first birthday spent with us AND I MUST HAVE NATE'S PICTURE TOO, PLEASE CHILD I DON'T CARE HOW TIRED YOU ARE OR WHERE THE BITCH TOUCHED YOU OR HOW MUCH IT TICKLED JUST EAT A CHOCOLATE CUPCAKE FOR THE LOVE. For mommy? Snookums?

I offered him the cupcake again. On the ground, whilegrassstilltouchedhimohthehorror. He was somewhat distracted by trying to get as much of his legs as possible out of the grass, but he managed to aim a pretty accurate annoyed bat at the cupcake that I lovingly shoved in his face.

Undeterred, I picked him up and offered him the cupcake for a third time, because no child of mine rejects chocolate and also, holy mother of all compulsive obsessions, I wanted that picture. This time his swipe had some power behind it and he sent the offensive cupcake hurtling across the lawn.

Not to worry, though. He refused to let me put him down for the next fifteen minutes while he smeared my back, left arm and hair with chocolate frosting. So, I was appropriately covered in chocolate for my efforts. There's no photo of that because I'm not particularly cute covered in chocolate and this is mostly a family blog.

We might just reuse Garrett's picture. Red hair, same clothes, in ten years, no one will notice. Shhhhhhh.

That's totally Nate. Shut up.