Tuesday, June 02, 2009
We celebrated Wolf’s second birthday this weekend. Two years ago, a fragile quiet little baby came into our life. It’s difficult to believe how fast he grew up to be an energetic toddler that's running around the house, that's learning the wrong words as soon as you accidentally utter them and who’s favourite hobby is to order his parents and the cats around.
Saturday – his actual birthday – we gave him a puzzle, but the real party was on Sunday. We’d invited his grandparents and godparents for a big barbecue. Mommy had bought enough meat to feed a herd of tyrannosaurs for a year or two and daddy slapped them on the grill, wearing his cowboy hat that went very well with the tepee that he’d set up at the end of the garden. And Wolf and mommy had spent the entire morning blowing up balloons and hanging them in the sun. Two hours later, the same sun had exploded almost half of the balloons. By the time all the guests were there, only four balloons survived. When the strawberries with whipped cream arrived (one kilo per guest plus one litre of whipped cream), our garden was the balloons’ version of the killing fields.
But it was loads of fun! And there were loads of gifts, although faulty communication led to two couples buying the same gift. But he got bicycles (plural, yes), a huge inflatable swimming pool, a Duplo horse riding centre (times two), a bedtime story book and loads of other loot.
Wolf and his nieces had a lot of fun; the sky was filled with screams of laughter, not in the least because the neighbours’ eldest daughter celebrated her birthday on the same day in the next garden. Needless to say, our party was the best party of the whole neighbourhood.
I was very glad that Monday was a holiday here, because I really needed an hour of rest before I went on the whole day to lay new drainpipes in the bathroom.