Don Quixote's birthday

Yesterday was Don Quixote's birthday. He turned 30. That's THIRTY, people. Well, Mommy, who was twenty-one years old thirty years ago, won't dwell on that fact anymore.

Don requested red velvet cake. Now, I made this from scratch once, and it required an entire bottle of red food coloring. (this is why I only made it once--I had children) Yesterday, Alvin Fernald made a mix cake. He guarded the beaters with his hand to prevent splatter, and this is what happened:
That is the color of the batter. It stained a lot of things before I got it all cleaned up. So I told DonQuixote that this was a one-time deal. (I also made a regular cake for the children and those of us who were just tired of cleaning up red-batter mess...)

Forget-me-not brought Blueberry over to enjoy the grass as it is really greening up. Love his curls:

At dinner, he enjoyed the hamburger and greeny-beany bites, but Forget-me-not let him have a bun that was not chopped up. Now, that is living high:

Here is my darling Don Quixote, with Junior Asparagus and Laura Carrot:

Did I tell you he was my smallest baby, at 6 lbs. 3 oz. and 18 1/2 inches tall? My father calls him my "scrawniest" baby. My other claim to fame is the fact that I walked to the hospital to have him. We lived two blocks away, and thought it would make a good story for the grandkids. When we got to the intersection across from the hospital, I got a contraction and asked Charming to wait to cross. (it was a four-lane main street) As my contraction passed, the light turned red. When it turned green again, another contraction was beginning, so again we waited. We finally figured out that my contractions were two minutes apart, which was the same amount of time it took the light to change. Charming literally dragged me across the street, and Don was born 30 minutes later.

Yep. The story gets better as time goes on.

Happy birthday, baby one!