After a low-key but undoubtedly compulsory first birthday party for him a year ago, I thought I had a few easy years ahead where a couple of small presents and a box of store-bought cake mix thrown into a tin would suffice.
If you don't know about something, can't understand it and won't remember it, then you're not missing out, right?
The lazy parent in me decided that was my theory and I was sticking to it... until we went to our first little friend's second birthday party at the weekend and the guilt set in.
Not only did little Madison have a party, she had one with a capital P. There were themed, specially printed invitations that carried through to the paper plates and streamers on the day, there was a room full of toddlers bearing beautifully wrapped gifts, there was even pass-the-parcel and an iced cake in the shape of the number 2.
As if that wasn't bad enough, my son loved every single minute of it and wouldn't stop talking about it for the rest of the week (if saying "Ma-sons pa-e" over and over and over again constitutes talking, that is).
Clearly the event had left a lasting and spectacular impression on him. Damn it. The idea of depriving him of one of his own was looking increasingly unlikely.
I found myself discussing the topic with a friend at the playground. Her son was only one year older than mine and had already picked out a complicated dinosaur cake from Pinterest, directed his mother to make it and furnished her with a long list of the friends he would like in attendance and which costumes they ought to wear.
One of the clearest memories I had from my own childhood was pulling out the Woman's Weekly Birthday Cake book months before my big day and agonising over which cake to pick. In hindsight I can now see my mother was probably agonising over the choice far more than me, especially as like every child I naturally selected the biggest and most complicated cake first.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that there would have to be a party for Edward - the question now became a matter of scale. How small and low-key could it be to satisfy his growing awareness of celebration?
Or was I missing the point altogether? Perhaps it was me who would miss out if I didn't embrace the opportunities life presented to reflect on and celebrate the milestones.
Either way,
I was confident a themed cake was - if only just - outside the realm of my son's comprehension. Which meant I had one more year to find and unleash the cake-baking domestic goddess I was sure lurked inside.
