Two Year Olds and Birthdays

Today is Hallie's birthday.  She's two. I was planning to call and sing "Happy Birthday" when I thought Hallie might be done with her nap.  Amy called me just about at her wit's end (and eight and a half months pregnant) because Hallie wouldn't take a nap.  Hallie really needs her nap and her mom really needed her to take a nap.  Amy invited a few people over for dinner to celebrate Hallie's birthday.  Amy and Devin are getting ready to move to Nebraska after the baby is born.  Amy needed to be on the phone wrapping up some details and get supper ready for company.  Hallie was running with scissors and, in general, being less than charming.  Phil and I sang 'Happy Birthday" to Hallie.  I talked to Amy for a few minutes before Hallie had the next crisis and Amy had to go.  Amy asked me about when I had a two year old in the house.  I didn't remember anything too remarkable then but as I was chopping vegetables for supper, I remembered One Of The Worst Days Of My Life.  Here's the story:
November 13, 1981 Fairport, NY   Peter's second birthday   (Is it a coincidence? Or what?)
We had been taking care of Tommy, Grandpa (Gordon) and Grandma (Marcia) Boling's Yorkie since Peter was just a few months old while they decided where to retire.  We went a few weeks without a dog and decided to go to Lolly Pop Farm to adopt a dog.  We adopted a full-grown golden retriever just a few days before Peter's birthday. (There's a whole 'nother story around this dog business that I won't go into here.)  So that's why there is a golden retriever in the story.
In our church congregation we discovered a family that Phil knew when he lived in Brazil during High School, the Wilsons.  I was talking with her at church and discovered that she and Peter had the same birthday.  Since her husband was going to be out of town on her birthday and all of her kids were grown up and away from home, I invited her to come over for supper.  My brother, Cam, was living with us at the time but he had to work evenings while going to school during the day so he rarely ate supper with us during the week.  So, dinner would be just Sister Wilson, Phil, me, Peter and Dan (almost 3 months old).  I wanted to have a nice 'dining room' dinner.  I dusted and straightened the living room and dining room.  Then I vacuumed.  Something got stuck in the vacuum.  I had Dan in a front pack and didn't get the vacuum turned off as soon as I should have.  It was a canister type.  Anyway it overheated to the point of melting the plastic casing on the bottom of the vacuum onto the carpet.  The vacuum was stuck to the carpet.  OK, we'll eat in the kitchen.  I opened windows to get rid of the plastic smell.
The dog had been driving me crazy since we brought him home.  He started snapping at Peter.  I put him outside, it was cold and he was determined to scratch his way into the house.  I let him in and put him out repeatedly, then gave up, put him in the garage and just let him scratch the door. 
I nursed and got Dan down for a nap and got out a cake mix.  I always had to let Peter help me in the kitchen so I could keep him out of mischief elsewhere in the house.  Peter said, "no cake ... pudding" and that meant cake was not an option.  Pudding is easy, so OK, pudding it is.  We did the breakfast dishes and got out the ingredients for the quiche crust.   We made the crust and baked it.  Since Peter was having an especially busy day I decided to use the blender for the pudding, not the mixer.  A couple of days before, he stuck his hand into the mixer bowl and I was afraid that today he would get his hand twisted in the beater if he did it again.
Dan woke up from his nap.  Hungry again! Nursed, I put him back into the front pack.  I tried to make the pudding with Peter on my hip but he was too wiggly.  I sat him on the counter and told him he could sit there and watch if he sat still.  I put in the milk and the chocolate pudding mix. I reached for the lid but Peter was too fast and he hit one of the blender buttons, I think it had 16 levels of blend.  Chocolate pudding went everywhere and all over us.  I will never forget how much Peter laughed!  I guess he thought it was the funniest thing a 2 year old had ever seen.  Upstairs for a shower for all of us, clean clothes, and back down to clean up the kitchen.  We got the pudding made and put it in the fridge.  I made the quiche and was making the salad when Sister Wilson arrived.  She finished the salad and I set the table.
I called Phil to find out if he had left the office.  He often worked late and missed  supper.  So, I wasn't surprised when he didn't answer his phone.  He could be on his way or he could be at another part of the office.  We waited about a half hour and then decided to go ahead and eat.  The quiche was the first I'd ever made and it was delicious!  I have been a fan of quiches ever since!  We went into the family room to chat while we waited for Phil, hoping he would come before we had Peter's Birthday Pudding.  The scratching at the door was too much and she said she liked dogs so maybe I should let the dog in.  The dog adored her, he really loved adults, and sat next to her with his head on her knee.  Sister Wilson rubbed his ears and said what a nice dog he was.  All of a sudden he retched, vomited on her leg and over her shoes!  I was mortified!  I put the dog out and got some damp wash clothes and helped her get cleaned up.  She didn't wait for pudding.  She went home.
Phil arrived as I was finishing cleaning up after the dog.  Phil ate his quiche warmed up in the microwave.  We had pudding, Peter opened up his presents.  No pictures were taken of this unusual day.  However, I recall the details quite clearly.

Post log:   The dog was indeed sick.  We took him to the vet and found out he had pneumonia.  It cost a small fortune to cure him.  When he was better we discovered that he could hop over our fence with ease and come back when he felt like it.  We realized we would need a less athletic dog if the fence was to keep him in the yard so the retriever went back to Lolly Pop Farm and that's when we met Corky.  Sigh, Corky.