Birthday Cake

To sum up the whole experience...he.hated.it.

I was so prepared for the money shot. 

The baby, covered in frosting and cake goo.

Smiling like he knew he was getting away with something, the glimmer in his eyes foreshadowing the post-suger-high-meltdown to come.

I had my camera, of course.

I had 1 vinyl tablecloth, 1 diaper-clad one-year-old, one 6" square cake that I made myself, and sprinkles.

We had already opened presents.  When I set him down he looked at me, looked at the cake, looked back at me, and smiled. 

He tore into the cake.  He ripped the first layer of frosting off so fast that I started to feel bad.  I think he thought there was a present in there, too.

Instead, it was more of the same, which he didn't care for the feeling of.  Squishy, sticky, crummy hands?

No, thank you.

At this point, he still hadn't tasted it. 

He didn't get that the cake was food. I tried to show him that he could eat it.  Nom nom nom...cake.  He looked at me, his big brown eyes saying "I'm going to trust you, mama."

And he tried a bite.

He promptly spit it out and shuddered.  We all laughed at him, of course.  At which point he decided he'd had enough.

I'm outta here.

About a second after I took this picture he put his hands down to stand up, they slipped because of all the frosting and he landed his knee and foot in the cake.

Its his party, he can cry if he wants to.

I took him upstairs to shower off while Papa removed the offending cake.