Last night's small family gathering was Fuss' favorite birthday party ever.
I don't know why it took us four years to figure out the smaller the crowd the more likely he was to enjoy it- in that, he's just like me. There was dinner, there was cake, everyone at the party was one of his favorite people on earth, and he loved all his gifts. The highlight for the younger set was Uncle Timmy's bedroom pow-wow, featuring a prolonged, elaborately detailed account of the time he saw a hairy dwarf blow drying his, ah, nethers in the locker room at the gym.
This morning I was a bit late to rise and found him in the living room considering the coffee table, piled high with gifts.
"Dada, look- everyone brought me presents." he said.
Not excited, more wonderingly.
"It was your birthday, and everybody loves you."
Then he climbed into my lap on the couch and we watched a show together.