The End of an Era.

We celebrated Rudy's first birthday on Sunday, and that means that officially, the only tiny babies in this house, the only infants, will be the ones visiting. Todd and I have finally decided that we're ready to quit while we're truly ahead in the wonderful and ridiculous kid department and truly behind in the finance department.

Rudy was true to her chilly-mo nature at her party, content to hang out with whoever, snack on whatever, and take it all in while her little cousins and friends raced around and around her. She seemed pleasantly surprised when we sang "Happy Birthday" (followed by the now predictable "Ru-dy! Ru-dy! Ru-dy!"). While I opened up her gifts, she literally sat in her highchair the lotus position while examining a velvety Elmo card.

,

But anyhow. Bean and Toot. And we're done. Todd and I talked about it for a while on Date Night last weekend, and clearly the end of this era's been on my mind because:

Earlier this week, while I was at Target [insert "When isn't Jen at Target?" joke here], I heard a newborn baby crying. Toot and I were looking for oversized sleepsacks in the baby department, and the frantic mewling was coming from the toddler clothes about ten feet away.

And I actually steered my carriage toward the sound like a crazy person because I WANTED TO SEE THAT CUTE NEW LITTLE BABY! And then I was that annoying lady peering into an infant car seat at a two-week-old and saying things like, "Oohhhh, he's some little!" while his mom was most likely thinking something like, "Not as I recall," or "No kidding, genius," or "Sleeeeep."

Then I moved on.

When I told that story to my sister Danielle, who's due in February, she said I can have her crying baby whenever I want. Understood.

And P.S. Here's Rudy's shock and dismay at the frigid temperature that accompanies the deliciousness that is ice cream. She'll get used to it. She is my child, after all.