The Real Birthday

The churning cogs in my son’s mind are clearly powered by his heart, it gets me every time.

Two more sleeps until his birthday, plans well underway for a bowling party with four super cool school friends that afternoon. Each day this week has been rung in with the announcement of the current countdown to B-day, this morning was no different except for it’s tag-along “huh?” moment. His eyes, inquisitive, look up at me… “Mom, when is my real birthday? Is it before or after?”
Huh?..Slightly confused at the question since I know he knows the party is on his actual birth date, I do a little research before I answer .. “Do you mean the time that you were born?”

“No, mom, my real birthday?!… when is it?”

Now I am officially lost, not that this is uncommon in any hour preceding 7 am (ok, let’s be honest, 10 am),… but again I ask “ like you mean the actual time?? You were born at 10:45 am.”

“Mom, I mean my real birthday, with the family. When is it?”

Warm fuzzy “aaaawwww” love washes over me with the dawning realization of the meaning behind this serious inquiry. His “real birthday”, a true celebration, what holds value above all else in his heart… time with family. While he’s excited about hanging out with good friends, his real birthday is a party surrounded by aunties, uncles, cousins, grandparents, all that can come … the more, the merrier… his new year can only truly begin with this.

You know, kid… I think you’re gonna make it just fine in the big world.


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