Bernard’s Birthday

It’s late, and the last of the lovely people have just left, after both Chinese and Indian takeaways eaten on our knees. I am about to go to sleep but just wanted to record something on Bernard’s first birthday. I am relieved, not so much that the birthday party is over, but that it went so well. We managed to mix family, Real Friends, and online people, without too much discomfort as far as I could tell (although sometimes it is hard to see what’s happening for other people when you have a small child climbing up your jeans).

Bernard is one year old today. We have made it to a year without dropping him on his head. I am so proud of us. It has been the shortest, hardest year of my life, and so much of the old order has simply had to go by the wayside. I can’t remember what things were like pre-parenthood, and I’m feeling a little bit sad tonight that we have dropped out of favour with some of our childless friends, who find us boringly obsessed with our offspring. Unfortunately that isn’t going to change; his needs are always going to come first; he is the sun around which I orbit. Also it’s hard to carry on an adult conversation about someone’s career and holiday plans when your little one is systematically ditching his meal on to a pub carpet.

But today he was the centre of everyone’s universe, because it was his day, and he was so very well-behaved and chilled about the crowd of adults (and handful of children) invading his premises. There was constant noise and cuddles and toys and balloons and food and an amazing dinosaur-dragon-tortoise-fish cake to give him his first taste of chocolate, which he liked. Even without an afternoon nap, he kept his temper all day, and politely gave everyone the attention they demanded from him. He seemed to take a particular liking to Adrian Sevitz, who can now tell girls that he is good with children.

Everyone who’s anyone has a Bernard ringtone now: bibble bibble bibble.