“Do I get presents?” he asked, calculating his reaction to the news.
The question was not a shock, more of a given. The entire month of November had consisted of birthday build-up, starting with a frenzy of gifts in the mail and multiple parties.
“Yes, a big one,” I said.
A smile darted across his face like the fire truck he just sent whooshing to a scene.
“Your toe is on fire,” he had informed me a few seconds earlier, causing me to shake my foot until the blazing red engine arrived to save the day.
The loud, obnoxious truck was a gift from my brother-in-law, an art teacher, who enjoyed the idea that the noise annoyed the birthday tot's parents more than the joy it brought to his nephew's face.
A few weeks earlier, a giant horsie had arrived in a cardboard box, surrounded by pop-up books and puzzles. At the babysitter’s my son opened cars that looped around a track, raced them with friends and basked in a sugar high from reindeer cupcakes made in honor of his upcoming day. At school, friends sang him “Happy Birthday,” the teacher made him a crown and he reveled in his time as line leader.
November was one big birthday jubilee and adding to the festivities was a new baby sister, born a few weeks earlier, just in time to share the same birthday month, but not spotlight, of course.
All of these celebrations resulted in the numbing of a young birthday mind, leaving my son not-so-thrilled by the actual news of turning three, but more excited than ever about the prospect of gift getting.
“Where are the presents? Can I have them right now?” The greedy line of questioning continued.
“Not until after dinner,” I informed him as we sat on my bed, drinking in the Sunday morning sunshine. “Can you hand me a diaper for your sister?”
Still he wanted to know more.
We worked together to rid the room of the offending smell. I tried to distract. "Hey good looking,” we sang to his little sis -- me starting us off and him repeating the words like a parakeet.
We worked together to rid the room of the offending smell. I tried to distract. "Hey good looking,” we sang to his little sis -- me starting us off and him repeating the words like a parakeet.
When the song ended, the relentless toddler, pressed again.
“I get a big present tonight right?”
His eyes widened, large and round, like rainbows in the sky. I wrapped my arms around the two tiny tots.
And to myself I answered, yes, but not as big as the presents I already have.
And to myself I answered, yes, but not as big as the presents I already have.
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