Birthdays get old for Mom and Dad ~ June 19, 1986

 David Heiller

Birthdays come but once a year. But if you have two kids six days apart, then throw in a grandmother and a friend or two, birthdays seem unending.

Our son, Noah, celebrated his third birthday June 12. But his friend, Joey, was born two weeks earlier. When Joey had his birthday party and Noah attended, he was included in the celebration.

Noah and Joey on Joey's third birthday.

“Joe’s three now?” he asked on the ride home, his stomach full of cake and ice cream.

“Yes, he’s three,” I answered.

“I’m three too?”

“No, not yet. You’re almost three.”

Then one week before Noah’s birthday, we went to Minneapolis to his grandmother’s house. She held a birthday party for her son, but made it a combo effort since Noah’s was only a week later and our daughter, Malika, was born a week after that. It gets complicated. But Noah filled upon cake and ice cream, sang happy birthday, blew out candles, opened presents, and asked once again: “Am I three now?”

“No, not yet, you’re almost three.”

The suspense was building, and with it mixed emotions about the big three. Noah had the habit of drinking a bottle of water now and then throughout the day, and at bed time. He knew that once he turned three, the bottles would have to go. We had been drilling him on that for about two months.

Noah woke up crying on his birthday—his real one—June 12. He crawled into our bed saying, “It’s not my birthday. I’m two.”

“You don’t want to have your birthday today?” Cindy asked.

“No, it’s not my birthday.”

“You don’t want to give up your bottle?”

“No, it’s not my birthday. I’m not three.”

Noah thought it over. Two hours later, he asked,

“Am I three?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not two anymore?”

“No, you’re three.”

“No more bottles.”

“Right,” Cindy answered, pulling her trump card. “Do you want to throw them away?”

“Yes.”

So Noah threw all his bottles into the waste basket in the kitchen. Cindy transferred them into the garbage bag. Noah went back to retrieve them shortly. He looked shocked to see the empty bag. Then he cried, screamed, and whined for two hours. But he hasn’t asked for them since. We are out about $10 in bottles, but the price is worth it.

Noah's birthday party at our house,
with Joe in attendance.

The authentic birthday party—his third one in the past two weeks—went well, with more cake and ice cream, and more presents. Then friend Joey had to come up on Sunday to help him celebrate, so another cake marked the honor, more ice cream, more presents. This time the cake said “Noah and Mollie.” NO way were we going to have another party on June 18 for our daughter. Then we’d have to include Noah and that would be his fifth party. He would overdose on sweets, and our check book would overdose on presents.

One thing is for sure though: Noah knows he is three. At first he asked, “Where two go?” but not anymore. I’m a little worried though. He came downstairs the other morning and announced, “I’m almost four, daddy.”

Not for another year, thankfully.