On Sunday, after the bliss of a late morning lie-in, the uncomplicated joy of opening presents that I ordered myself, the indulgent ideal of breakfast in bed and the impossible reality of eating it with a toddler on the loose, we headed off to Hawkstone Park.
We basked in the soft September sunshine, ate the most glorious of picnics in the most glorious of settings and then wandered through the park in a haze of birthday happiness.
And even though it was a day entirely dedicated to me, for me it was all about these two:
These two funny, silly, adventurous, independent calm and contented souls, who teach me the meaning of happiness each and every day.
I watched them wander through this enchanted landscape - ducking through dark caverns and behind eerie stone pillars, climbing lone Rapunzel towers, exploring the dragon forest where gnarly branches struggled to strangle us as we passed, and walking beneath expansive rock faces that glowed amber as we wound our way home in the low evening sunshine.
And as my heart sang with joy and my baby sang "e-i-e-i-o" over and over again from his vantage point on Daddy's back I thought that this might just be the best birthday ever, and the best day ever and the most wonderful year of my life.