Three years ago, the rhythm of the house changed forever. No longer would the toy shelf be dominated by trucks and trains alone. “That’s Not My Dolly” suddenly joined “That’s Not My Dinosaur” and”That’s Not My Tractor” on the bookshelf. A girl had been born! A Princess entered her domain and essentially began to reign supreme over her part of it, conditioning the boys to the sudden influx of pink things in the house and even now, convincing one or two of them to play “Prince and Princess” almost every time she likes. I believe that particular game consists of rescuing her from whatever imaginary danger lurks in a bottom corner of the yard and escorting her up the slope to the playhouse. I digress.
This morning our Princess awoke to balloons and doughnuts on the breakfast table, and to every eager birthday wish she responded to the sayer with “Oh yes, happy birthday to you, too,” as if she wished them a Merry Christmas or a fine day as well. 😉 We kept trying to remind her that today is her day, that we’re just saying this for her and she needn’t reply in kind, but it was to no avail. Finally, after she wished Dinosaur a Happy Birthday, he felt compelled to make her notice the error.
“No, [Princess], it’s your birfday. Just yours.” He paused a moment, then added, “We killed all the dwagons.”
I have no idea what that has to do with her birthday, but I’m glad he made the backyard safer for her, I guess…. 😉