Romulus has passed over from eight to nine yesterday. Clever boy. I always dread a birthday landing on Sunday. It's a work day, don't you know, and there are so many irons glowing in the fire, I'm liable to lose my grip on one of them. On the other hand, there's the birthday prayer in church, and being able to say to everyone you happen upon, in ringing tones, “I'm turning Nine. Today.” I'm so delighted that my children haven't absorbed my horror of birthdays in general, and think that the celebrating of the day of their birth is always unicorns and sunbeams. I'm sorry, I mean light sabers and Legos. Thank goodness for that because I am really creeped out by unicorns.
Amongst the most endearing qualities of Romulus, in there amongst his winning, easy smile and his complete entrance of himself into any activity, is his great, trusting belief in himself and his own abilities and awesomeness. I suppose at some point this belief won't be so endearing, but right now it is tragically cute and so he is never contradicted. As I said yesterday, when he demonstrated his ability to wildly swing two light sabers at the same time, “everything is awesome.”
Today the festivities continue with a box of Captain Crunch that he doesn't really have to share, crepes, and the viewing of the only Star Wars movie we haven't all seen. I think it's the second one. I've been reminded a dozen times but somehow I can't keep all the numbers of them fixed in my mind.
After that the Leave it to Beaver marathon must relentless carry on because time's a wasting, and the thirtieth will be here before you know it.
Have a lovely day!
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