Elbows and handbags flew in a giddy melee in front of the cameras - and in the background Brian Cowen's family was beaming, write Miriam Lord.
POLITICS HAS its happy days too. Yesterday was one of them.
True, it was tinged with poignancy for some, but that is always the way.
Bertie Ahern, giving way to the new man, was magnanimous and determinedly upbeat. But it must have been difficult for him.
He is Taoiseach in name, but that's all.
He didn't stick around after the official family photo was taken, slipping away, almost unnoticed, as the giddy coronation continued on the plinth.
Brian Cowen was the centre of attention, his Fianna Fáil colleagues cheering and crowding around. His wife and family looking on with pride, and tears in their eyes.
For the taoiseach designate, this was the greatest day of his political career. Yet, more than anything, he will have wished his father could have been there to see it happen.
Brian was nine years old when Ber Cowen was first elected to Dáil Éireann for the constituency of Laois Offaly. He was proud to follow his father and his grandfather into politics, entering the Dáil at the young age of 24 following Ber's sudden death.
Just over two weeks ago, Brian buried his uncle, Fr Andrew, to whom he was very close.
Amidst the celebrations, taoiseach designate Cowen remembered them yesterday.
As Fianna Fáil celebrations go, this one was more restrained than usual. There was a reason for that: Ahern is still in office, and will be for the next four weeks. There'll be time enough for the buck-lepping and pint drinking when May 7th comes around.
Wednesday morning began with a parliamentary party meeting, when the changeover was rubber-stamped by Tánaiste Cowen's colleagues. It was a brief gathering. Chief Whip Tom Kitt read out the names of those who couldn't be present.
New deputy for Dublin North Darragh O'Brien is on his honeymoon; Minister of State Billy Kelleher is in India; Minister for Defence Willie O'Dea was taken ill on the way to the Dáil yesterday morning.
Party chairman Séamus Kirk brought proceedings to a close, asking his colleagues to "proceed to the plinth in an orderly fashion". His request was honoured until the politicians got to the doors of Leinster House and saw the banks of cameras at the end of the car park. Whereupon they kicked up their heels and steamed down the plinth like it was the opening furlong of the Grand National.
It got a bit rowdy, with elbows and handbags flying. Mary O'Rourke - try and stop her - emerged smiling from the dust in the middle of the front row, while Senator Ivor Callely burst from behind in a dazzling orange tie to bag a berth beside her.
The Ministers, trying to preserve some semblance of decorum, strolled out next, picking up speed as they went along. The four front-runners for the plum jobs in Cowen's cabinet insinuated themselves into a prominent spot.
It's a large parliamentary party, so those marooned in the lower ranks risked not getting into the photo at all. Standing on one's dignity is all very fine, but when there's a picture to be taken standing on a wooden bench is a far better option.
Suddenly, the faces of Seán Ardagh, Eoin Ryan and Michael Woods popped up in the back. Along with a few others, they had hauled a heavy wooden bench across the plinth - needs must. Methuselah Woods, the great survivor, has been in more photographs marking the arrival of a new leader than anyone else.
Bertie arrived. Waiting, like everyone else. He didn't have to beat his way to the front.
Two benches had been placed at the foot of the steps. "Put them together lads!" advised Bertie, directing operations, organising his front bench for the last time.
Finally, a big cheer went up. Biffo arrived, smoothing down his hair, looking relaxed and happy. Tom Kitt and Séamus Kirk accompanied him. And then Mary O'Rourke let out a blood-curling shriek, "Aaaaargh!" and laughed uproariously.
For the fourth member of the party was her constituency rival, Seanad leader Donie Cassidy, who always does front of house duty on the important gigs.
"Good man Donie! Hooray!" roared the simmering backbenchers.
The lads sat down. Bertie joined them. Both he and Brian put their hands, palms down, on their knees, like footballers enduring the pre-All-Ireland formalities. The two men smiled and shook hands. The photographers got to work.
Mary Coughlan, Mary Hanafin, Micheál Martin and Brian Lenihan stuck together like glue at the end of the front row.
"Move out towards the edge," shouted a snapper as the politicians bunched up towards the middle. "We're all on the edge already," trilled Mammy O'Rourke.
Which was true, if the look on the faces of the four Ministers was anything to go by.
Then the lads on the benches jumped up. The photo-op was over.
Bertie exited gracefully, leaving Brian to enjoy his moment.
There was mad excitement. Everyone wanted to be near Cowen. The Ministers in the frame didn't know who to be talking to. By the end of the four weeks - their new leader has made it clear he won't be giving any hints about jobs - they'll be in a terrible state.
An air of mild hysteria enveloped the plinth, and then everyone piled inside for breakfast. There was a run on the rashers and sausages, and the staff were exhausted trying to keep up with the demand for fried eggs.
Biffo, cool and collected, sat at a table and had a cup of tea with friends, fielding the congratulations of political supplicants and wellwishers.
At 10.30, Taoiseach Ahern conducted Leaders' Questions as usual, taoiseach designate Cowen beside him.
Brian's wife Mary sat in the visitors' gallery with her teenage daughter Sinéad and family friend Senator Ger Feeney. Little Maedhbh, her youngest girl, stayed away from the fray.
At midday the action moved down Kildare Street, to the beautiful surroundings of the Royal College of Physicians, for Cowen's first press conference as leader. In the Corrigan Hall, colleagues and supporters gave their man a rousing welcome.
Two busloads of supporters came up from Clara, Brian's home village. His brothers, Christy and Barry, joined Mary and Sinéad in the front row.
All agreed it was a great day for Clara.
"I'm his number one canvasser. I've been canvassing for the Cowens for 47 years, for Brian and his father before him. I can't tell you how proud and happy I am," said Kathleen Bracken.
Former Offaly deputy Ger Connolly was on hand, too, to offer his congratulations.
Cowen made a short speech. He said it was a proud and poignant occasion for him and his family, reserving a special mention for his mother May.
He spoke well. Leadership seems to suit him. "I am excited by the challenge if daunted by the responsibility," he said, invoking the name of Seán Lemass as he defined what patriotism means to him.
When he entered the lily-scented halls of the College of Physicians, the taoiseach designate passed a plaque bearing its motto: Ratione et Experienta- Reason and experience.
Brian Cowen has both.
On the opposite wall, a second plaque: Stat Fortuna Domus Virtute- The good fortune of this house stands by its virtue.
Brian Cowen knows that too. He deserves all the very best wishes in the task that lies ahead of him.