Off the Wall

Today is the Big One in this house. Grandad O'Neill gave Sweeney a breakfast birthday call, and even the neighbours joined in with this piece of cheer this morning. Nice one, Lists!!

Preschool took Sweeney's group on the bus to the airport this morning, which worked in really nicely with the set of airport Tonka figures he opened up first thing this morning. Thanks Catherine and Co.!! And he really liked the card, too.

I really pushed the boat out (for me) and made a chocolate cake and loot bags for his preschool friends. I got the idea for the loot bags from Hanna's blog, Craftykin. I found a copy of Hilda Boswell's Treasury of Nursery Rhymes at the Salvation Army shop, with enough rips and graffiti and general munting that I didn't mind pulling the pages out. They turned out just the right size for a couple of marshmallows, one of those mini Flake bars, a chunk of yoghurt apricot slice and some candied bananas. Yes, I know, sugar galore, but I really don't want to fill the world with more meaningless stickers and plastic trinkets that fall apart in the car on the way home. And dagnabbit, I think this is a good occasion for indulgence.

Sweeney was stoked, the teachers got the kids into party hats and turned the lights down when the cake came out. It was all looking great until Sweeney burnt his lip on the candle. Inconsolable.

Anyway, we got through it and took some leftovers up to Martin. He's still pretty sick, but chirpy at getting a visit from Sweeney and his cadre of airport Tonka figures. Three years ago, he was visiting me and Sweeney in hospital, and we were so happy about our new life as parents to this splendid, full-lipped wunderkind.

We had dinner at the Asian noodle place by the Basin - laksa for me, five or six grains of rice from his roti chanai for Sweeney. Full of cake and lollies and about a gallon of milk from the hospital, so the nice chap packed Sweeney's dinner for us to take home. I may eat it later.

Back at home, he opened some more presents, played cars, chatted on the phone about his cake and the candle inferno and the trip on the bus to the airport. Then he hit The Wall something horrific while I was telling Mum what gorgeous company he'd been - threw things, jumped on things, yelled at me. Regret letting him start his day at 5.30am this morning? Yesssssss.

In other news, Michael Jackson died today. I quite liked him up until the Glove and the escalating weirdness. Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough still makes me feel good when I hear it.