Monday, 18 June 2012
My baby boy turned two today. I dressed him in the little green vest I knitted while I laboured to birth him, dropped his big brothers off at school and hit the road. We drove deep into the forest to a herb farm surrounded by wilderness. Quinn picked me a calendula flower and we rubbed lemon verbena leaves between our fingers, watching the rosellas and the wrens and the tiny red tailed mistletoe birds flit around the gardens. We drank hot chocolate and ate cake and cookies and I sang happy birthday and a medley of nursery rhymes to him in the empty cafe, with the forest all around.
Quinn slept in the car on the way home and I drove in silence. We iced the cake and sang happy birthday properly, after much practicing, after dinner. He was so excited about blowing out the candles that we had to finish the song in darkness after he puffed them out as soon as I set the cake down. I lit them again but then he looked so worried that he had done the wrong thing that I almost wished I hadn't. He is the boldest, most boisterous of my boys but he has a heart as sensitive as his brothers. His favourite birthday presents were his cards. He has walked around clutching the cardboard cockatoo we wrote inside all day and it now lies crumpled and sticky with icing on the table. How I love this boy.