Olive was hungry (because the girl still eats no less than bi-hourly)(and poops thrice daily) we decided to bagel, because if you're turning one and your mean parents won't let you have pizza, what else would you want? (Play along and don't say cake.)
While we waited for our food, Pappy presented her with her first flower from a boy.
(Did you know that Olive, at a mere 8 months old, inspired us to invent a new term? Bagel booger. It's just what you're envisioning, only stickier. And boogeryer.)
Our bellies full of carbs, the girls (my mom, Olive and I) headed off for more carbs at high tea. My mom always comes up with great excuses for us to go. Olive's first birthday was one of her better ones.
(PS My mom wants me to share with tea-goers of the world that the high tea at Neiman Marcus (where we took Olive for high tea in January) at Union Square in San Francisco now sucks. It used to be way cooler when I was a kid, but now it "sucks." It was even acceptable a few years ago when we took the Cracker. But now it "sucks." PSA over.)
From the tray I shared with my daughter a slice of radish. She looooved it. Score me! While my mom and I ate the good stuff, Olive had her very favorite, banana sucked through a mesh bag. Now, I am not crazy, I do not think she is going to choke on a squishy banana. But Olive? She has this thing about bananas. In a bag? HER FRICKIN FAVORITE OMG NOM NOM! Outside of a bag? Not to be trusted. Poke, poke, launch!
I am not totally mean. I did give her a few tastes of clotted cream. "Do you think she likes it?" "Mom, SHE'S CLAPPING. Yeah, I think she likes it just fine."
Outside she had a blast petting a fake dog. Olive is obsessed with DOGS. The girl has this crazy squeal that is reserved only for DOG spotting.
(Too bad we are not dog owning* (insert your own more PC term here) people. We love dogs, but we are not up to sharing our home with one. We love your dog, but we do not want our own dog. Our house is plenty full with cat gak and piss and I have more crazy than I can handle right now. But! if your dog would like to go for a walk, Olive and I would love to take him. Or her.)
The hat is hiding banana bag hair, her shirt is untucked, and her skirt is too long even though it's 12-18 mos. But her shoes are peep-toed and silver = awesome. (Not to be confused with her silver ballet slippers. Totally different. The toe-peeping is totally better in the dog picture.)
We did some boring stuff and then picked up the Cracker from school and went to eat a-gain! This time it was my choice, since I did birth her and all. (Okay, so really she kinda birthed herself since her head was already out and no one KNEW IT and I didn't push, just didn't sneeze or cough because OMG she's on her way and people needed to gown-up and put on gloves actually don't even breath because we don't want her to land on the floor. But I should still get to pick the food.)
Olive signs "all done!" Yes, we know this isn't the official sign that deaf people use, but it is the sign her big brother used back when, and we have chosen to pass it on to her as well. So we've broken two children. Deal.
Happy birthday my little Olive. Believe it or not, having you to keep me company all day long keeps Mommy sane. Not only do you love me in that special way that babies love their mommies, you crack me up. Lately I especially love watching you try to cram yourself into the Little People house. I think it looks fun in there too! But for your second year of life I will try to teach you about scale.
I love you. xoxo
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