As seen through another’s eyes
When you’ve had a few birthdays the celebration becomes less important in the greater scheme of things. I’ll leave the exact definition of “a few” for another time. It may be that after a lot of such anniversaries (which get closer together, as time is an elusive thing) that they will seem more important, but I’m not there yet. So, I’m going to journal a birthday, as seen through another’s eyes.
Today is my baby’s birthday. We’re on the straight stretch through teenhood, and there are role models available (I didn’t have any, and had to figure it out alone). I’m intrigued by the way this one has been celebrated, though.
First is the choice of a gift. There is no simple chart for birthday gifts, unlike the odd one used for wedding anniversaries. The item of note this time around is a chair. A big chair. One clad in leather and assembled at the store before delivery this morning. The main use will be as a bodyholder for gaming. No one-legged milking stools for this child.
The afternoon was spent with the next sibling up the ladder. Really, spent with, in the company of, away from home. Off to a computer network centre down the way, where they could play games online (isn’t that what we have at home for a diversion? I guess it’s in the setting. But, spent with sibling.
Next is the choice of “the meal”. The party was family members only, and the cake was chosen late this afternoon from a large cooled counter at the supermarket. I’m not a cake-eater, but chocolate is definitely part of the recipe. Instead of a steak, or a big tub of greasy chicken, the request was that I make submarine sandwiches, large, plural, meaty. I concurred.
Finally, the evening was spent, again with family members only, watching a movie about pilots in the Great War. Flyboys. Not on the short list for Oscars, but lots of graphics that seemed straight out of a round of Flight Simulator.
And now that things are quiet again, with only the ritual of clockwinding left before dawn, the birthday is finishing with a bit of web surfing. Not at all like my own birthday at the same age. Funny; I can’t remember a thing about my own birthday at the same age. Life’s like that.
