It was, of course, moustache themed. Perhaps pictures would be the best medium. Peruse at your own pace.
The weather, she was good.
The cake, it was whiskery.
The boy, he ate cake. (And lots of other things.)
There were bubbles. (Of course.)
The boy worked his imperious arms.
There were multi-boy cuddles.
Costumes were donned.
You know it's been a good party when the guest of honour is unconscious by the end.
And on his actual birthday, he smashed a cake, as is meet on one's first birthday.
He's supremely weird and unreasonably tall, completely bottomless and hysterically funny. He's MY boy, and he's one year old. Life is good.