My son is at that age when birthdays are really wonderful things.
My birthday was last week, and he turned it into quite the affair. Given that both my husband’s and my birthday are two and three weeks after Christmas, respectively, our birthdays are usually pretty low key events.
By the time our birthdays arrive, we are on holiday overload. We talk frequently about hosting a joint party, but we never do.
This year was the first year that anything was considered remotely party-like. And that was ALL thanks to my son, who I am quite sure told everyone we know how old I am. Not that my age was ever anything sacred -- but there is no chance of secrecy now.
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My son -- concerned that I wouldn’t have any presents to unwrap -- wrapped his favorite rocket shooter for me. As my husband put it, this is high praise. His rocket shooter is one of his favorite items. I noted that he did keep the rockets for himself though.
My husband brought home an ice cream cake -- which has been my requested item since I was 16 years old. I blew out the candles the first time, and the kids took turns blowing them out the next 17 times.
And I got a wonderful rendition of Happy Birthday complete with “cha cha cha” inserted. When did this happen? I don’t remember this version when I was a kid!