Sunday, September 25, 2016
Our LB celebrated his eleventh birthday on Friday. It felt like a different kind of birthday to me because he was much more involved with it all this time. He asked for a homemade cake and I was happy to provide, though when I say "homemade," I mean that I got by with a lot of help from Pillsbury. Which is okay, really, because I'm not very good at baking cakes from scratch. He wanted yellow cake (fine with me) with Aqua Blue Vanilla Funfetti frosting (somewhat less fine with me), which comes with tiny, colorful shark-shaped sprinkles to put on the cake. Everyone had a bright blue mouth after eating their slice. He insisted on lighting his own birthday candles, which was okay with us since we were standing right there, but I did kind of miss doing it for him as he watched. He helped cut and serve the cake, too. It was sort of a do-it-yourself birthday for him, I guess. He's growing up. After cake, he played the guitar for everyone, blue lips and all.
I think he had a good day, but he's the stoic type and it isn't always easy to tell. In school, he handed out Rice Krispie Treats for his birthday treat. He attended the first meeting of the year for an after-school computer club that he's finally eligible to join now as a fifth-grader. He's happy with his birthday presents, especially the radio-controlled quad-copter with video capability, which has already been retrieved from the roof twice this weekend. He also received books from some of his favorite series, in particular the Bone series of graphic novels for kids. I recommend Bone highly; my somewhat-reluctant reader of fiction has suddenly decided he likes it a lot. I gave him a box of Twinkies because he told me that he really wanted to try one. I know, mean old mom, her kid reaches the ripe old age of eleven without trying a Twinkie? Well, the time has come. He has to share them, but suffice it to say he has no other complaints about Twinkies.
His take-charge approach to his birthday festivities is a reflection of the kind of person he is turning out to be. I'm a bit of a pushover and I don't want that for him or his sister. No, he's becoming very independent, thinking more for himself all the time. He knows what he likes. He also knows what he doesn't like. I told him recently, in a moment of exasperation, that I wanted to raise him to adulthood, not drag him there. I think dirty socks were involved. I know I'm only on the fringe of these woods, though, and I'm enjoying this phase with him very much. He is still little in a lot of ways - for one thing, he's still smaller than I am. He still hugs me spontaneously, letting me rest my chin on top of his head, pushing down ever so slightly, as if that could possibly work.