Tickle understands birthdays much more than he used to. We met him for the first time on my birthday; we’d brought cake, and we shared it, and he sang Happy Birthday to me. That’s what birthdays were: cake and singing. Tickle moved in with us about a week before his sixth birthday. I still remember we had to practically drag him in to the toy shop to choose a present, and he literally pointed at the thing right in front of him. (He wasn’t that interested in the presents on the day itself, but he did sing to his cake quite a lot.)

It’s my birthday tomorrow. Tickle is quite excited about that, because he knows there will be cake. I’m working early tomorrow, so as there won’t be time for presents in the morning we decided to do them this evening instead. Tickle was *extremely* excited about this, so much so that the excitement tipped right over in to getting really cross that he wasn’t allowed to open anything, and WHY NOT I GOT ANY PRESENTS??

He actually coped pretty well, sat on my lap, and passed me things to open. It helps that his birthday is so close to mine – we talked about his cake, his presents, whilst eating my cake and opening my presents.

This year, Tickle has requested a birthday party – swimming, no less – and has chosen two children from his class at school who he would like to invite. He’s also able to talk about what sort of cake he wants (beyond ‘chocolate’, I mean) and what he would like for presents (beyond ‘chocolate cake’). It makes me a bit emotional, actually, as it’s such a tangible sign of how far he has come.

My favourite moment though was when he proudly announced that he’d got me a raspberry and rad-ash-oh cake! (Pistachio, in case you’re wondering!) I think that’s what it will be called forevermore 🙂