Booth had started it the first month.
He'd come home with three cupcakes. Brennan eyed him suspiciously as he presented one to their daughter. Who, of course, had been entirely too young to do anything except focus her eyes on the brightly colored frosting.
Brennan thought it was a first step down a slippery route to spoiling their child. Booth, reminding her it the proper term was "slippery slope," informed her that in the first year, every month was a birthday.
And that he didn't plan to miss a single one of them.
By month three she was secretly looking forward to their ritual. And by month six, when the baby was advanced enough to make a mess while attempting to rid her chubby fingers of icing, she had given up any pretense of displeasure.
And on Christine's eighth month birthday she found herself driving to the local bakery in their newest small town and requesting two cupcakes. A calculated risk she knew but she had decided it was well worth it.
"Just two cupcakes hon?"
The plump cashier's question shook her from her daydream and she hoped her sad demeanor didn't make her a memorable customer.
"Actually, make it three."
This month they'd just have to enjoy Booth's cupcake for him.