My Mom had a way of making many things magical when we were growing up: the fairies were alive, we had free reign of our furniture-less living room, we "sledded" down the stairs on a crib mattress evenings our dad was away, we played "candy bar and liver" on our drives home from school (my mom would ask if we did something and we'd say candy bar (yes) or liver (no) -- a good way to extract info), there were rituals -- to our drives, to our dinners, to our years. One day we marked each year was our half birthday. We probably did different things, but I remember half cakes and the fact that everyone knew it was our special half-day being highlights. My brothers still count down to their half-birthdays -- one had to teach his wife all about its importance -- and they are on either side of 30.
Yesterday was Silas's half birthday, so I tried to follow suit. We talked about it for weeks. We anticipated the amazing greatness of giving up sippy cups on that day (hallelujah!). We practiced singing "Ha-- Bir---t---yu---." And of course we made half a cake.
Since we were meeting friends (at the most beautiful playground in the world) anyway, we took the cake along.
Unfortunately that afternoon Silas turned to his alter ego the "MEAN BAD GUY" and terrorized his friends, which made the park a little less fun for all... Here he is making his flexing face, which is very close to the "mean bad guy" face but without the yelling...