Bobbing Along

Early this morning (well, not that early I suppose, but early for me…) I received a text message (yes, I do know how to do that. I just find my fingers a bit too chub to text back with any speed.) which read:

“Rooster and I were practicing singing Happy Birthday in the car this morning when he asked me if you were going to be three today like him.”

Well, Rooster, maybe I’m three…or maybe I’m a whole lot wee bit older than that.

I love the way young children view age. Though their instincts tell them one thing, their minds just can’t wrap around the reality of the numbers of years…and years…and years.

I remember a conversation I had some ten or eleven years ago with Maren, one of my nieces. At the sweet age of three or four, she was royally whipping my ass in some card game. In my defense, I was never quite privy to the rules of this game which may have had a small effect in my multiple defeats. Nonetheless, after several games, Maren looked up at me and asked, “Auntie Cindy, how old are you?”

“On my next birthday, I’ll be fifty-one,” I answered. Her eyebrows knit over her dark brown eyes as she pondered this travesty. Her reply was classic:

“Fifty-one. Fif-ty-one. Oh. My. GOD!”

For the record, I am sixty-two. Today. Yes, my birthday is today. Halloween. When most of my friends first learn that I was born on Halloween, they nod their heads as if to say, “Ah! The final piece to the puzzle!!”

So what does a Halloween baby do on her birthday? This one has to high-tail it out to the store to buy candy for all those little munchkins that will later be pounding on the door. One of those munchkins will be the Rooster. And he’d better be singing Happy Birthday loud and clear!!