Hey, guess who forgot to take pictures at her son's second birthday party?
I remember there was cheese dip, some kind of breadcrumb crisis, and I kept losing my wine glass.
There was also a really pretty cute cake, but again. Photos? What? Eh.
Noah officially owns every toy in the universe, except for the train table his brilliant parents bought for him in anticipation of a lot of train sets.
Don't worry, baby. Customer Service says you can play with your trains in seven to 10 business days. In the meantime, just look at the pretty picture on the box.
Customer Service was also exceedingly chipper despite my obvious WIGTHEFUCKOUTedness about the missing parts, even when I accused them of using Midwest accents to mask their secret Swedish identities.
Predictably enough, Noah didn't get any train sets. Apparently nobody wants to give the gift of lead poisoning these days.
Biggest gift hit? A pair of plastic glasses from a Mr. Potato Head set.
Although he is still slightly unclear on the actual concept of glasses and where they go, he won't take them off. At all. Ever. He would also like to wear his new Thomas the Tank Engine backpack as pants and top the whole ensemble off with one of my headbands.
Who told this kid he was two? Was it you? I really wish you hadn't done that.