Yes, it's been a whole year since His Imperial Majesty, Lord High Emperor of All He Surveys, arrived a month ahead of schedule. I could do a touching photo retrospective. Instead, I will post the blow-by-blow photodocumentary of our baby versus cake deathmatch. Many many pictures after the cut.
First into the ring, in the blue onsie: Spud Lane, the baby.
And over here, sporting the white vanilla icing: the cake. It may not be apparent, but the cake is already broken in half down the middle. Will there even be a match?
In point of fact, no. The baby is far more interested in the dishwasher than the cake.
Mama gives the cake a pep talk.
Maybe we can egg things along a little by giving the Spud a taste of icing? Pure butter, cream cheese, vanilla and sugar. What kid could resist, right?
This kid. Are we sure he's mine? Pleased as anything, but still just not interested.
"Seriously, kid. You gonna eat that?"
"Why, hello there, tower of plastic stacking cups!"
"I'm Spud! Pleased to meet you!"
"Whoops, it fell over. But look, a truck!"
And then it was time to call the grandparents, refuse to babble into the phone, and take a well-deserved nap.