On birthdays and crazy squirrels

Warning: This is a long post so I'd get some snacks before you start reading if I were you.

So, think the picture above and the one below have nothing to do with each other? Well you'd be right, and you'd be wrong, let me explain.  
Today is A.'s birthday and though this isn't "the" cake I made for him for today, it gives you a good idea of the ones I did make that you will see a bit later on this blog. This cake is a birthday cake too, so I thought I'd show it to you. I made it a while ago for a friend's birthday party and was given free rein to choose the recipe as long as it included chocolate; I chose a Charlotte Cecile because that is one of my favorite cakes ever and there's nothing I like better than to make a cake I love to eat for someone else.

But what does this have to do with squirrels? The thing is that this little guy would only have his picture taken in this way when A. was with me in the park. Without A. well... that's the crazy squirrel story.

In fact the whole squirrel thing is due to A., from beginning to end, and coincides with this birthday cake "thing".
The day I started making this cake, A. decided to take Baby Saffron out to the park for a walk and, being in and out of the kitchen and quite tired, he took her without me. A short while later, he called me from the park so I could hear my little girl giggle to no end. Apparently, he'd chanced upon a French couple giving nuts to a bunch of very enterprising (read crazily comfortable with humans) squirrels who were climbing up on them to take the nuts, and these charming people had given him some nuts to lure the squirrels, thus causing my little girl's giggle fit. Well, needless to say, I immediately regretted not having gone with them but it was too late, so I resolved to take her back to that same area of the park as soon as the weather would allow it.

Now, the pictures below presumably portray what happened on that day, taken when I made A. come with me the second time I went to the park to show Baby Saffron the squirrels.
They *look* harmless, don't they....

Oh yes, the cute little squirrel on the ground.


Uh-huh, the cute little squirrel on A.'s leg.


Umm, the really big (but ok cute) squirrel on A.'s coat!

Let me tell you what happened the first time I went on the squirrel adventure.
Oh yes, I was young and naive then, and they knew it.
A. had purchased a big bag of peanuts in their shell specifically for the squirrels, but when the weather wasn't quite so miserable again a few days later, he couldn't go out and Baby Saffron and I ventured forth by ourselves with aforementioned bag.



Once in the right area of the park, I started taking out shells and crunching them softly in my hands to draw the squirrels out. They came, shyly at first, pretending that the peanuts would be a nice treat, a little afternoon snack to keep their bellies happy until a dinner of nut medley and fine nut liqueur no doubt. One, two, four, six, they seemed to multiply like rabbits. Very cute and funny. Baby Saffron was amused, but I think it wasn't quite the spectacle it had been the first time, so there was no extreme giggling going on. They came from all directions and I wasn't afraid to have them climb onto my feet and shins to grab peanuts from me, but then it started. The squabbling for the peanuts, the pigeons gathering and flapping right in front of me or above Baby Saffron as I tried to wave them off, and finally the jumping and the attempts to climb onto the stroller. Yes, you see, when they've got a full bag of peanuts within their reach, all bets are off. That's when the comfort of being known as "such a nice squirrel" are thrown to the side and the most brazen wins.

Suddenly, I was being accosted on all sides at the same time by at least three or four squirrels. They were on the backs of my legs, climbing up on my shins up to my coat and hand, jumping up on the stroller, trying to shove their heads into the bag to grasp the peanut bounty. I think my burgeoning shrieks were probably causing Baby Saffron to giggle more than the actual squirrels by that stage. I could see it already: "Attacked by the Hyde Park Killer Squirrels" would be listed as the cause of death on the coroner's report. Baby Saffron would grow up to recount that terrible day in the park when she watched Mama run off in a shower of peanut shells and flying squirrels, drawing them away from her so that she could live to tell the tale.

So, I did what any reasonable person who is being attacked by peanut-psychotic-squirrels would do, I ran.
OK I didn't leave Baby Saffron behind, I actually ran off pushing the stroller, but wouldn't you know it, that wasn't sufficient; some of them followed me a full twenty or thirty yards (~meters) before I realized that the only way to lose them would be to throw peanuts on the ground behind me and skedaddle (prendre mes jambes à mon cou as we say in French - run like a bat out of hell), which is what I did.
I consider this to probably be one of the better episodes of how to look ridiculous with/to a small child in this first year of my little girl's life. I hope you're laughing as much as A. was when I told him about my narrow escape. To be honest, I laugh about it too so, you know, feel free to indulge.

All this to say that I love my A., he who braves crazy squirrels for me so I can take pictures, he who surprises me with gorgeous flowers and chocolate cake on Valentine's Day, he whose features I see in our little Baby Saffron, particularly in her sparkling eyes, he whose birthday it is today, just short of a month from our little Baby Saffron's birthday. And as for the cake, you'll get a recipe but not in this post. For now if you please, I'd just like to share a little bit of the color we experience in this house thanks to A.

Oh and while we're celebrating birthdays, it's Meeta's fourth blog anniversary tomorrow, so go on over and wish What's For Lunch, Honey? a happy birthday while you're at it.

And now we wait for spring, which will be kindly brought to you by little Baby Saffron's birthday on the 21st of March. Can't wait.