Our birthday boy

Three years ago on June 22nd, the little man's daddy and I were sat in our hospital room, shell-shocked, staring down at a sleepy but large-eyed tiny baby, our baby. Wind the clock forward and here we are, running around a church hall, ten other toddlers in tow, throwing our son a party to mark that momentous event that seems such a distant memory now.
There were sandwiches, sausage rolls, crisps, a floor littered with toys, balloons and bubbles, entertainment courtesy of Jo Jingles, piles of presents to open, and a fabulous guitar cake made by my hardworking mum, ever up for a challenge.
Boy, parties are exhausted, particularly when you are carrying around an enormous baby bump. And I certianly couldn't have done it without the help of husband and parents, who worked tirelessly the whole morning to make it perfect for him. By the end, the birthday boy was beside himself and spent his bath and storytime wailing. It was all we could to do just crawl back down the stairs once he was asleep, curl up on the sofa and watch TV munching leftover party food (the best kind of dinner).
But it's pictures like these that make you realise it was all worth it.

The birthday boy is in white - he loves those bubbles