6.31am (after I nudged Daniel to wake up): "Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to YOU!"
6.33am: Che stands up, looks at himself and declares that he is most definitely bigger. We then ask him to look under the bed and in all his hurried excitement he pulls the presents out and bumps his head. "I'm ok!" He opens some books, a ruler, some clothes and, finally, the lego jet plane. His response: "I have wanted this for all of my life, for years and years. It is wonderful! It is amazing! Let's build it now!"
So while I baked cookies and made sandwiches and prayed for the sun to stay and the wind to stop, Daniel and Che started building lego. A few hours later we headed to the park that was, unfortunately, wildly windy. Gale force. Like nature was celebrating the birth of Che - my air child - it has been windy on his 1st, 2nd, 3rd and now 4th birthday. We played at the park for half-an-hour then headed to Mama and Popa's house for tea, cake and party food (in the calm that was shelter).
The lego cake was a hit (oh the vivid sweetness that is food colouring!), the party hats made for lots of fun and the wild duck sitting on her soon-to-be-hatched eggs in Popa's vegie patch provided a little bit of 'farmyard' entertainment. I was reminded, like I am every year, that with little kids it's the simple things that are the best. Who knew that star-shaped vegemite sandwiches, party poppers and stripy straws could keep a bunch of four-year-olds happy?
My favourite moment of the party was when Che's little (girl) friend Vali came running back into the house to give him a handmade pressie: "Che, this is a pink clay love heart that I made for you," she said. And then we all melted.
The night before his birthday I cuddled with him in bed and, like every year around this time, I shared with him the story of his birth.
"Four years ago I had some niglings in my belly and I knew that you were coming. You were about to arrive in the world. So we went to the hospital and after a few hours there you were born. Daddy cut the umblicial cord that was attached to your belly button and I cuddled you for hours and hours. You made me a Muma that day."
"How did I make you a Muma?"
"Well, before you were born I didn't have any children."
And then he starts crying and exclaiming: "You didn't have any children!"
"It's ok sweetie, I've got you now. You and Poet are my children."
"And you're our Muma."
And then he fell asleep.
B is for birth-day, f is for four and l is for love. A sweet friend of mine sent me a text message yesterday and informed me that a four-year-old asks an average of 437 questions per day. I think four will be fun, frivolously so.