My son, the one year old.

At 5:30am we were woken by the sounds of cords being pulled out of our TV. Michael and I woke to investigate which one of our children was trying to give us the message about TV Addiction. We looked. Behind the TV, grinning from ear to ear, was our little Hacker, dressed in a singlet and diaper with one sock and no pants. Not only had just found his way out of bed, but into our room and into the arms of his long lost friend: the TV.
Michael and I looked at each other, then looked at the clock. 5:34 am. Our Little Hacker was officially one. My baby is now a year old.
Michael scooped him up and brought him to the bed.
"He knows it's his birthday," Michael said, "He knows attention is coming. Attention and brightly coloured boxes."
"Yeah," I said sarcastically, "He's one, Michael, and already a mind reader. He doesn't even know what day it is."
Michael paused. "I want to give him his present." On a whim, Michael had located a toy store and had chosen a ridiculous box of lego-type things that make noise when connected together. On inspection from Declan and I, we had no idea what to do with them. How had my husband found this atrocity? Had he looked under Toys That Make Excessive Noise and Have Small Parts and No Real Function or Educational Value, and found this? Glad this gift would not be opened at Conor's birthday dinner in the evening, I let Michael give Conor the box. Conor laughed and put the box on the floor. He went back to tugging Michael's glasses. My husband, never beaten, opened the box, tipped out the lego and spread them on the floor. We could hear Conor's curosity turn into full blown excitement. Toys that dismantle! That make noise! Things maman will hate!
Michael and I woke up again at half past six to see Conor still on the floor, concentrating on what could have been a house or a boat or towers. Or just a post modernist piece of art with no real meaning. "Lego Stacked Up in the Morning." This type of art comes with being born post-millennium.
We took a photo of our Busy Constructionist, to go alongside the obligatory Cake photo (this year, Conor will stab, mush and otherwise ruin a chocolate gateau).
Lying in bed, watching our one-year-old, we were silent. Until Michael asks with a hint of curiosity, "Ash, do you think he'll use his Powers for Good or for Evil?: