Yesterday, Cate helped me bake the cake (a la Pillsbury). We made a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. I had some sprinkles and frosting left over from some other project to use for decorating. My penmanship with frosting is horrible. I figure all cakes are test runs until I reach perfection for their high school graduation cakes.
We are pretty sure Cate woke Max up before he was really ready to wake up, because he was a terror this morning. Kyle ended up pinning him in his high chair for a while so we could get a few things done before guests came.
Once the guests came though, Max was a gem. With twenty people total in our little house, it was quite a lively time. For dinner, we served baked pork chops with homemade mustard, "Celebration" potatoes and a lot of fruit, courtesy of both Grandmas. My mom was to bring broccoli salad, but we got our wires crossed when she called days earlier and asked if she could bring fruit instead. It worked out fine because the Birthday Boy LOVES fruit and there was then a greater variety of fruit to choose from.
Max enjoyed everyone singing Happy Birthday to him and he clapped afterwards. He doesn't have enough "fuff" in him to blow the candles out by himself, so his older cousin, Henry came in to save the day.
Gift time was truly overwhelming for him. He received so many lovely gifts he didn't know what to do. His young cousins didn't think he was opening the presents fast enough, so they were "helping" out. I think his favorite gift is from (no surprise) Great Uncle Cliff, who gave him a Spider Man sweatshirt that blinks when moving around. He was mesmerized.
(poor guy looking overwhelmed)
Two hours after the first guests arrived, the card tables and chairs are down and the dishes are collected into the kitchen. Max is taking a long-overdue nap, Cate is coloring quietly in the dining room, Kyle is snoring on the sofa (over there-->) and I am done!
1 comment:
That's a great photo of Max on your lap -- you sitting still and him moving. It really gets the 'overwhelmed' across.
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