With a little sanity on my hands, I’ve started planning for our big move. Ten days from now a lot will be happening – we’ll finally move into our new home, and Celia will have her two-year birthday party the day after. She’s really looking forward to the party, which I think is really cool.
A month ago Michelle told me, “Let’s not make a big deal about her birthday, or we’ll have to do that every year.”
“Are you crazy?” I responded. “I’ve already been making a big deal about it! Which book did you read that in?! It’s ridiculous! I want to make a big deal out of her birthday every year!”
Michelle laughed, “I suppose you’re right.”
So, I’ve been talking with Celia about her birthday plans for weeks now. Last night when we were putting Celia to bed Michelle asked her, “Celia, do you know how old you’ll be on your birthday?”
“Two!” Celia said happily.
“That’s right,” Michelle said. “And what do you want at your birthday party?”
“Balloons!” Celia said with a glow in her eye.
“How many balloons would you like?” I asked, hoping for a number under twenty.
“Two!” she shouted excitedly.
“Okay!” Michelle and I looked at each other with grins. “Two it is!”
Celia laughed happily and clapped her hands.
Two balloons is what she wants. Two balloons is what she’ll get. And a party hat for everyone. And a pineapple-carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and two candles. And we’ll invite all her new friends from daycare. Which will be a great way to meet all those other parents.
Is it me, or is my daughter’s life making my life a whole lot more interesting?