It's not all cake and ice cream when it comes to turning two. Today was Danny's two year check-up. There are no flies on Clare, either, because when she found out about his upcoming visit, and confirmed that he would receive shots, she conspiratorially said to me, "He probably won't like those shots, so we should go get ice cream afterwards." She also wisely opted to spend the morning playing with her friend (and apparently fiance) Max instead of tagging along, so it was just me and Danny. His doctor quickly won him over by letting him have not one, not two, but THREE "sticks," a.k.a. tongue depressors. She also pronounced him fit as a fiddle.
To backtrack a bit, last night Danny was the proud recipient of some cool toys, including a toy Rocket that's just like the one the Little Einsteins use, some Thomas the Train cars, and a conductor's ensemble which I'm hoping he'll wear tomorrow. He also joyfully received his cake, and promptly stuck his finger in the middle of one of the candle flames. I saw that one coming, but fortunately there was zero injury or trauma. As predicted, and despite my holding it up at a near 90-degree angle and prompting, "Look what's on your cake!" Danny made no acknowledgment whatsoever of the Rocket on the frosting. I've decided I still love him.