Ten years ago today our youngest child, Maggie, was born in our bedroom at home. It was a cold, wet, blustery night and Lisa labored long and hard with two midwives at her side.
Today it’s a living wonder, how this . . .
led to this . . .
led to this . . .
led to this . . .
and now this . . .
Around our house, Maggie somehow acquired that idea that birthdays are a big deal.
A really big deal.
The other day I shared Maggie’s request for breakfast. And so Mom made it happen, with a small bit of grudging help from me . . .
Not too far off from the artist’s original rendering . . .
Maggie ate it up, happily, beaming, humming to herself.
Then there was the problem of the cake. Last week Maggie announced that she wanted Lisa to make a homemade birthday cake, and added, “I want an iPod cake for my birthday!”
An iPod cake? Lisa and I exchanged worried glances. A . . . what!? Where did that come from?
Undaunted, Maggie’s mom dug around, discovered this recipe and stayed up past 1:00 AM last night to bake and decorate this cake.
Mothers, you know, are just crazy about their kids. She’s a lucky girl. But I have to believe she’s not nearly as lucky as her parents.