FOX: Here are a few memories about your first birthday:
You woke up in your usual way. You sat up in bed, yawned and smiled at me (it’s usually that or you lovingly pummel me on the head until I wake up). I rolled over and glanced at the clock, 5:43am. 5:43am, the exact time you were born a year ago today. In all likelihood a coincidence, but a poignant coincidence nonetheless. The day rolled on like any other, we ate breakfast and got dressed. Then, when you went down for your morning nap, your sister and I squirreled away to the kitchen to make you a cake. Lamb insisted on doing everything herself, even cracking the eggs (hence, the crunchy texture). Fortunately, it was a packet mix so she couldn’t go too wrong. When it came time to ice the cake we debated what colour to make it. Lamb, unsurprisingly, said pink, Daddy said yellow. I made it aqua. When you woke up we plonked you in your highchair, lit the candle and sung happy birthday. Your sister obligingly blew out the candle for you. What we didn’t know at the time was that it was one of those joke candles that re-lights itself every time you blow it out. You thought this was the most fantastic thing you had ever seen. Every time it was blown out then came back to life you squealed and clapped your hands enthusiastically. After we stuffed ourselves with cake, your sister went off to Nanny’s house and your daddy went to work. We had a quite afternoon together, just the two of us, playing games and snuggling. You were so tired by the end of the day that you went off to sleep without a hassle, not a single complaint, and with your arms above your head, the same way you used to sleep when you were a tiny baby.