My sweet little boy,
Earlier this week you turned 6. It hurt my heart that it wasn’t much more than letting you have pizza for lunch and cereal for dinner, and not having to do all of your summer educational activities. Usually, we celebrate by going to Disneyland, but, well, that’s closed, and the reopening delayed.
There’s been a bad spike in cases. Last Friday, right before the Fourth of July, there were over 3000 cases. Before then, the governor had started rolling back reopenings in several counties, including our own. Even taking you to a park to run around wasn’t in the cards because, frankly, without access to the playground, the park is no fun.
We tried to make it special, but I think you just wanted a day to not have to do all the things we usually try to make you do. You just wanted to play video games and run around with Dad and eat whatever you wanted to eat. We were going to go for a drive to pick up a cake for you, but you decided you wanted me to make it for you: a chocolate cake with a chocolate meringue frosting. So, I spent most of the morning making a cake. The cake was perfect, but the frosting just wasn’t holding up the way it’s supposed to. I’ve been having trouble with that one lately, no idea why. But you got to blow out the candles (you said no to us singing to you) and then kind of picked at the cake before asking for Oreos. I don’t know why, but you’re just not the kind of kid who gobbles up cake!
Anyways, happy 6th birthday, my sweet little boy. It was fun telling you a bit about the day you were born, such as the storm that had come in earlier that day and letting you know you’d spent the first few hours in the NICU because you were stubborn and wanted to be born early. I don’t know if you’ll remember us telling you about this when you turned 6, but I’m sure that, by the time you’re reading this, you know already. It was kind of fun to walk down memory lane, to see just how big and bright you’ve become. You were so tiny! And now I can barely pick you up because you’re so much heavier and seem to be all limbs. And tall, now. I’m sure you’ll be taller than me soon.
At the end of the day, I started singing the happy birthday song and your sister started picking it up. She asked me to sing it over and over, and to you. It was kind of sweet, kind of funny. After all, she’s only 3.
But my favorite thing is that you two seem to be closer. Every night, before Dad and I can take you into your respective rooms and read you both to sleep, you must run up and down the hall at least once to each other for a few hugs and to yell good night to each other. It really is sweet and, as much as I need to be stern so you don’t get carried away and spend all night saying good night to each other, it does make me smile.
So, my dear little boy, my firstborn, happy birthday. Hopefully we can return to Disneyland next year. Or not. But I still hope you remember good things, and all the glow in the dark stars we got you.