Alden is two today. It seems impossible. But the calendar does not lie.

Today, our family rose early and drove to Washington, where Robbi and Kato wished Alden and me well for our trip to Kansas City, where my dad and I will be watching a lot of basketball over the next four days.

Last night we gathered with Bob and Seiko and our good friends Donald and Ann to celebrate Alden’s arrival at the tender age of terrible.

There were presents, of course, including one from Iris.

Inside was a beautifully constructed, tastefully imagined pillow/friend thing, with which Alden formed an instant bond.

And then there was a gift from Donald and Ann, who are easily three times more thoughtful and generous than Alden’s own parents. The hulking gift was cloaked in a light blue sheet. Alden was stunned by the sheer mass of it, but Donald and Tanker offered moral support.

Beneath the shroud was a magnificent Radio Flyer with retractable handle, fold-up bucket seats, safety belts, and four cup holders.

Things have changed since my childhood days.

A great ruckus ensued, Alden demanding rides around the kitchen island at breakneck speed. There was great merriment and enthusiasm. The whole affair was emotionally draining, and poor Kato resorted to his only party trick.

The rest of us ate cake, and sang and wished the birthday girl well.

She made a wish, but would not tell us what it was.

For all we know, she may have wished to have a piece of it. If so, she was soon satisfied.

At first she was demure and ladylike.

But moments later, taking a cue form her mother’s playbook, she picked up her pineapple upside down cake like a slice of watermelon, eating the gooey, sugary, buttery topping and leaving the cake itself in undignified glory on her plate.

Kato awoke as the festivities were dying down, unaware of their import, feeling a vague sense that he was something less than the center of attention, and in sore need of consolation.

I was happy to do what I could to make him feel better.

One party down, several more to go. Here in Kansas City, Alden is the soon-to-be recipient of another pile of gifts, another gooey cake, another round of song and celebration. More on that to come. For now, Happy Birthday, Alden. May you somehow avoid the proverbial wretchedness that is forecast in the year to come.