Happy birthday to you,
you live in a zoo,
you’re my sweet dear Monkey,
and now I’ll squeeze you til you turn bluuuuueeeee!
Actually, I usually follow it up with tickling him until he pees, but the rhyming, you understand, doesn’t work so well with that one….
In a few short hours (I’m writing this Monday night, and setting it to publish at midnight) my baby will be five whole years old. My baby. My last baby.
We will run into his room in the morning–as we always do on his birthday–and wake him up with singing. He will slowly uncurl from the little ball he’s burrowed into under the covers… hair sticking out every which way… a tiny trail of drool from the corner of his mouth stretching down to the pillow creases on his cheek… and grin from ear to ear.
He will scale my torso, wiggling his bottom and wrapping his arms around my neck, chanting “It’s my birthday today! It’s my birthday today!” Then we will tease him for longer than is necessary, asking him how old he is (“You’re 2 today, right?” “NOOOOOOOO!” “Oh, wait, I know! You’re 40!” “MAAAMAAAAAAAA!”) and is he absolutely sure that today is his birthday?
At school, the teachers will fashion for him a construction paper crown of the color of his choosing (in the past it has been blue, but I think this year he will select green). They will write HAPPY BIRTHDAY MONKEY in huge letters and he will decorate it with stickers. He will then wear it all day long and still tell anyone who so much as glances in his direction that it is his birthday and he is “THIS MANY” now.
He will spend the entire day blissful, which really isn’t so very different from how he spends most of his days. The main differences are that:
1) He’ll get to have cake. Twice. (Once at school, once at home.)
2) He’ll be wearing a crown.
3) I’ll be trying very hard to join him in his joy instead of bursting into tears and wailing “My BAYYBEEEEEE!!!” every time I look at him.
Happy birthday, my sweetest boy. You are my special gift from God, the closest I shall ever be to pure joy. You are truly the most handsomest, inside and out. I hope you get everything you want this year and always… and if that includes getting out of nighttime pull-ups and staying dry all night, that’d be good. Or not. Either way, sweetie. Just so long as you let me hug and kiss you til you pee. I love you!