Today was Sebastian's first birthday. Boy does time fly. I was curious to see whether he had mom's skintone or if he had dad's complexion like me. Mom (who still hasn't quite lost her pre-pregnancy weight) led him to his birthday cake.
There he is, just below mom's feet. He's gonna be a total heartbreaker, I see that already.
BTW I also think Aunt Margaret's on her last legs. I haven't quite mentioned it to dad but the specter (pardon my pun) of her death is looming. I also think she's older than she says. She says she's 95 days old but the combination of birth certificate from England and my dad's stories put her age at more like 105 days. As grandpa lived to 101 days, long life is in our genes I think. Dad says she's entitled to have that one tiny little fib. We don't know when the Reaper is coming but we know we'll be totally sad when he does.
After Sebastian blew out his cake, mom, dad, and I went into the dining room and we talked about quite a few things -- mom's elder birthday party (which she either wants to have here at the house or at the park), the guest list, the music, all of that. And then I finally said I wanted my own birthday party at the beach.
"What's the sense in having a beach party, Vanna?" mom asked. "They can't swim in the water yet."
"I still think a beach party would be fun. Could have music and dancing and even a fire..."
"C'mon, Shan," dad said, "let her have her beach party. Even though we can't swim in the ocean yet there could still be a great time."
Here's one last pic of Dad & Bastian.
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