There is nothing quite like the build-up to a birthday for a child. Leo has been in a state of excitement for the past three months. and this morning it was finally time.
“It’s my birthday,” he told me at 6am. He was standing by the mirror. “Gosh I’m big,” he said measuring his height against the glass. “When I was six, I was just to here, and now I’m all the way up to here.”
I have been spending more time with him than ever before with the girls gone and Rupert busy with Hugo and Julia who have arrived with a possy of friends.
Last weekend Leo and I had practically two days together, watching New Moon, playing chess (he beat me every time) and football (indoors naturally, and yes he beat me, 10-3) and just chatting.
At one stage I added something to my novel. He was standing behind me reading over my shoulder.
“Mummy, your book is going to be really great,” he said earnestly. “I know, I just read a bit, and I REALLY liked it.”
So I am assured of a best-seller. Maybe I should hire Leo as my publicist.
He opened his presents this morning and I KNOW he was was hoping for an electric guitar but the only one we could find was several hundred pounds and twice as big as him. So he got a funny kind of skateboard in two pieces that looks impossible but I thought would be good for his ballet balance, some clothes, a book and a Spiderman lego game.
I have to say, nothing that really made his little face light up with pure joy (well, maybe the Spiderman thing did a bit) and I felt awful.
Having said that it is still only 10am. I am taking the afternoon off work and there are more presents to come from other people as well the cake ceremony (in the shape of a football baked by my friend Noch) and a trip to a kids’ fair so there is time to make it the memorable day he so longed for.
Happy Birthday to my little man.
PS Here is Noch’s cake
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2010