My first born baby is 3 years old today.
3!
And so far, he’s only cried twice.
First, because in his rambunctiousness about being a birthday boy at 7 this morning, he lovingly bit daddy. Probably accidentally, but it still hurt him.
Which is why daddy wasn’t happy and yelled at him to not bite people. Made his son cry. On his birthday.
Benjamin stopped quickly though, because when I heard the cry from the other room, I went to rescue him by throwing the infant on daddy and picking up the big birthday kid.
I went to show him his dump truck paper plate, and his car and train candles for the cake. That distracted him, and we proceeded with opening some presents and by making him pancakes for breakfast. With candles in them, naturally.
15 minutes later he was dressed and ready to go to the grandparents. Never mind that I was still in pjs and the baby was just going down for her morning nap and daddy was getting ready for work and the diaper bag wasn’t packed and the car was blocked in by the other car. He was ready.
The second time he cried was at his grandparents’ house. We were busy getting tea ready when we suddenly noticed a small chunk of cake missing.
We wondered out loud what happened and that made him cry.
But that too didn’t last long. He got his candles, he got his cake, we sang happy birthday and snapped pictures, and now he’s shoveling snow. Again.
So far so good.
Happy birthday Ben!