Lyra's Birthday Number One

A year has passed in the life of Lyra, twelve months since our excitement-stricken drive to the hospital and contraction-punctuated hobble to the Birthing Centre where I gazed slack-jawed upon the cowled alien-face of my offspring emerge from my lovely wife's unmentionables at a pace that can only be said to have been indiscreet bordering on downright pushy.

A year in which Daughter Number One has progressed from being a caring elder sister into something a little more nuanced as the spotlight of public attention has slid away and the shadows of sharinghood have spread their dark wings in a depressing embrace, gesturing at the existence that the rest of us must endure and unimaginatively naming it Reality.

A year in which Daughter Number Two has progressed from being a dribbling lump of inertia, admittedly a cute one, but dribbling and reasonably inert nevertheless, into a bouncing squealing lump of energy, in love with nananas and constantly wanting to be bup.

We started the day by delegating the present-opening activities to Eloise and a suite of charming things were revealed, for which I am sure Lyra would thank you all if only she understood birthdays, presents, the societal rules of etiquette, and the English language.

We invited a few friends to the park for a play and a barbecue at the park. We stayed for a few hours eating and drinking. Lyra was managed and chaperoned communally. It may be that she was not fed or watered as much as she should be. If only he had managed to grasp the English language by now she would have been able to explain in her later upset whether this was the cause.

She was present for the cake cutting and so on. The cake of course was the real purpose of the party and I am sure (I think I am sure) that Nicole will be reasonably content that I should report that the Rainbow Spectrum Cake was an ambitious project to attempt, and whilst perhaps not realised to its maximum potential it was nevertheless rainbowy and very large, being made up of six normal-sized cakes with the icing challenges that the physics of that particular scenario present.

The Australians, as ever, were bemused by the bumps. As there was only one, and one for luck, their bemusement only really had a chance to germinate before the event (or ceremony if we're being ambitious) passed by like a balloon on the breeze.