You woke this morning and exclaimed, "It's MY birthday!" I managed a yawn and a greeting simultaneously - Haiippih Buurhfday...! with my eyes half closed.
You instructed that I said it with much more zest while you plopped back down to bed, pretending to be still asleep. The idea was to 'surprise' you with a loud over-the-top HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
I obliged of course.
And your "is it really my birthday finally?' look was really convincing.
You thought you were six because you blew off 5 candles at an early celebration with Ada.
I said No. You are 5.
But you said you were five last year.
I said No. You were turning 5 last year.
Poor lad. You were so confused.
And so you are 5 relunctantly. Today.
5 years. 1,2,3,4,5. That's five fingers on one hand. The same five fingers I have held for five years.
As I held your hand, guiding you, I knew the other five fingers on the other hand are eager to 'flee', even wanting to escape, perhaps. They are always pointing out something, poking at someone or picking up an object. But you were still a little unsure thus you hung on to me in the past years.
I guess being 5 means you will be more confident. You will explore more. It's ok. Don't be afraid.
Rest assured, whenever you look back, I am there. Sometimes with a smile, sometimes with a frown. (Give me a minute, and I will turn the latter upside down.)
Grow grow grow...
We will charge forward
Go go go.
Happy Birthday, Gooly!