Last week grandboy Henry turned two years old. He had a full week of celebration to show for it!
On Monday, Hens and his mama and daddy took a trip to Parc Safari in Quebec. It is quite something. I remember taking our chids here many years ago but it’s almost an entirely different species now! They had a grand time surrounded by exotic wild animals on the psuedo-African plains. (Yes, in the cold Northern Hemisphere. It’s a marvel.)
Henry enjoyed the water park more than anything. But I loved hearing about the up close and personal camel experience. Better yet, while Daddy was intent on capturing the perfect shot, he received a sloppy, wet smackeroo from another camel on the backside of his head. Stealth attack!
Early on Wednesday morning, I called Henry via FaceTime to wish him a happy birthday. He listened politely to the birthday song for all of about a minute before telling his mama, “Shut door.” Then CLICK, he disconnected me! Well, huh. I can hardly compete with the Micky Mouse Clubhouse.
His mama took the day off to enjoy his birthday. She said, “Henry, you can do anything you want today. Beach? Playground? Anything!” Henry said, “Feed cows with Pops!” … and she was unceremoniously ditched, too! Pops had the honor of Henry’s company on his big day.
I took a few small gifts down to Henry after his nap to help fill some time as he was waiting for his daddy to finish work. I was eager for him to unwrap.
GiGi: “Henry! Don’t you want to open your presents?”
Henry: “Hmm. No, GiGi. Play diggers! Play diggers!”
That is classic Henry. However, his eyes lit up when he saw the appliquéd dump truck on his new pillow sham, preparing for the transition to his big boy bed. He thought it was Mighty Machines. Oh, how little boys love their equipment. ;=)
Henry received a tricycle for his birthday and is quite proud of his newfound skill pedaling. He cannot wait to show his older friend, Andrew, what he can do. (Andrew is a mature 5 years old, after all.) It was all Hens could talk about as he pedaled around.
Their driveway has a slight incline, which made for the perfect training ground. Hens-Self could hardly keep up! “Who’s birthday is it today? Who is two years old?” I asked. He giggled all the way to an abrupt stop on top of my strategically placed foot. Only then, breaking his intense concentration, did he look up and answer my question. “Hens!”
After dinner with Daddy and Pops, we went out for ice-cream. Henry couldn’t decide between his vanilla-chocolate twist with sprinkles or mama’s vanilla with cherry dip or daddy’s plain vanilla. And really, why should he have to? Ha! But just how much ice cream can one two year old eat?
On Saturday, it was Henry’s mama’s birthday. I picked them up for breakfast shortly after 8. We headed to a little diner on the outskirts of town that gets great reviews, especially for their pies. Henry picked up on this tidbit in our conversation and became very excited about this prospect.
His Mama: Henry, What do you want for breakfast?
He quickly earned the title “Cutest Yankees Fan, Ever” from a sweet elderly lady at the adjacent table — although he was far too consumed with savoring his chocolate milk to take note. He enjoyed some of his mama’s breakfast sandwich and some of GiGi’s french toast. But boy, oh boy, did he relish that fresh raspberry pie! Because, why not? It’s mama’s birthday!
I think there must be an as-yet undiscovered pie gene and it runs at least four generations deep in my father’s family. Come to think of it, there might be an ice-cream gene, too!
On Sunday, we gathered for Henry’s birthday party. Pizza and presents. Cake and balloons and Mickey Mouse party hats. Aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. It was raining outside … and inside, the barely controlled chaos you might expect with four busy wee ones at play.
Oh my mercy! Even with just the immediate family, we are bursting at the seams. Pops better build that barn soon! How far we’ve come in two-and-a-half years of grandparenting. This picture says it all: Life is good.
Sadie (16 mos), Henry (2), Oliver (2 yr 5 mos), Rose (11 mos)
~ René Morley