I have never been able to interest Uta in a birthday party for himself, at least not one that included kids his own age. He got close to agreeing to it this year, he talked about sending out cards with yes or no printed on them, depending on if the recipient was invited or not. He even went so far as to whisper to his friend Willa on a recent play date that she would get a Yes card, but maybe not her baby brother. Not a very kind way to host a party, but in the end it was all a great big bluff, he refused to invite anyone.
Instead he had a birthday celebration in many parts over the course of several days. It kicked off with the balloons, and a small present. Two days later I baked a belated but much anticipated flourless chocolate cake with fresh whipped cream and raspberries, and Uta received a whopper of a present from Baba and Jiji, smuggled home in our suitcase from Japan. (Uta is mystified by this. How could it be that he was living under the same roof with such a glorious gift and completely unaware of its existence? How could I manage to get it home without him seeing it?) The following Day Pop took him to Coney Island to ride the free fall to his heart's content and splash about in the surf. And yesterday Grandpa T came with a present for every one of Uta's six years and the one thing Uta cherishes above and beyond all else, the willingness to lie on the floor and play. Grandpa T played, without breaks, for a good seven hours straight.
We are still living with more balloons than I care to count. A few have popped, several have shriveled, but most are healthy and strong, making a clear path through our railroad apartment a very far off dream. Uta thinks being six is fantastic.
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