My doctor asked me yesterday how old my son is and I replied, “He’ll be 6 next week” to which he responded “Oh, is that a fun age?” Actually, fun isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I think of my son, and for that I truly feel some guilt. But this post isn’t about hard feelings since this is his first birthday that I’ve actively looked forward to. I’ve always waited to the last minute to think about or plan his birthdays. I know that probably makes me seem like a lazy and uninvolved mom, or maybe your child is similar to mine and you can understand the reasoning behind it.
When you have a child that doesn’t play with toys, has only one friend who lives far away, and doesn’t seem to understand the concept of a birthday, you sort of lose your steam when it comes time think about a party. But this year, I think we’ve turned a corner. This year, I think he finally understands what it all might mean, and this year, he is starting to engage in good old-fashioned play.
Instead of feeling a bit demoralized during the Toys R Us shopping trip, I floated out of that place thinking about the look on his face when he sees his new doctor kit. I thought about how much fun we’d have with the toy school bus and the fact that the timing with school starting couldn’t really be better.
This year, on his 6th birthday, his mama is going to see and feel her boy shine as he puts all the pieces of the puzzle together and takes part in what is such a childhood rite of passage in our culture. Just 5 more days.
It doesn’t get much better than that.