Six

This morning my son came over to my side of the bed and said in a worrying tone of voice, “mommy?”  I said in a rather groggy, still half asleep voice, “yes?”  He then said in a happy, bright voice, “it’s my birthday!”   I woke up immediately, grabbed him so I could give him a big hug and told him it most definitely was and happy birthday and he looked older and all sorts of other supportive things parents say to their children.  

My son then asked if he could go tell dad, who was in the shower at the time.  I told him he could and listened as he repeated the same question and answer conversation over with my husband, who also responded with peppy, happy congratulations on being six to my son.  

A few hours later my son found me and told me in a cautious voice that he felt different.   I was worried he’d caught the cold we’d been sharing around the family for a week or so and asked him how he felt different.   Guess how?  He felt taller, he informed me.   Ah, I said and told him we would definitely need to get the marker and measure him on the wall in their room later in the day.  

We did several other things during the day, but what was interesting to me was how my son was both shy and quietly excited at the same time.   This is normally a not-shy, not quiet kind of kid we’re talking about here, but he was both today.   We were at the school, he being one of the only children with a collection of adults packing muffins in little bags for an event in the morning.   He came over to me and whispered, “why aren’t you telling them it’s my birthday?”  I asked him if he wanted me to tell them.   He decided he wanted me to whisper it to each of the adults so they would know.  

You know how that went, right?  The first adult I told said out loud to my son, “is it your birthday?  Happy Birthday!!”   He got shyly excited and then answered all of here questions about how much taller he was and how he could help out more around the house now (apparently he said he gets to help out with laundry, which I was pleased to hear.)

During this time my husband and daughter landed in Detroit and they sent a picture of my daughter romping in the snow.   As my son looked at the picture on my phone he swiped through older pictures, noticing the one where we went to Krispy Kreme the last time we were in Detroit.   He wanted to go to Detroit to get donuts next time, he told me.   I told him we could do one better, we could go to Krispy Kreme right now, even though it was four o’clock, because it was his birthday.  

So we went and we got donuts and we ate them in the car as long as (and this is the important part) no one tells your father.   He told me he wouldn’t and he ate over the big cloth and didn’t make a mess and decided they were the best donuts in the world.

We came back and went to a casual invitation for dinner at our back yard neighbor’s house whose children are good friends with ours.  My son, again, wanted to make sure I was going to tell them it was his birthday.   I said I would, although I didn’t want them to feel like they had to do anything special (they were ordering pizza).   They had been making cake balls when we arrived though and we each got to have three little desserts to celebrate my son’s birthday at the end of the meal.   On the whole,  I think it was a good sixth birthday.

The Big Boy Update:  My son and I went to lunch with Uncle Jonathan today after my husband and daughter went to the airport to fly to Detroit.   He was upset his favorite sushi restaurant wasn’t open but agreed, after some discussion and telling him there wasn’t any other choice, to go to an alternate restaurant.   We sat down and after he got his food delivered he told Uncle Jonathan and me, “best birthday ever.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter and husband landed in Detroit amid falling snow.  Not a lot of snow, mind you, but snow.  Snow of the, “more than seven flakes per hour” variety which, in North Carolina, means “cancel all schools”.   My daughter was delighted with the snow, not minding the cold nearly so much because there was fluffy white matter on the ground she could play with.