Just five days ago, Little A turned seven. Where did the time go?
First and seventh birthdays are a big thing in our culture, so we knew Little A had to have a party. My parents offered their garden, so I hired a fancy tent, expensive chairs and a caterer while my mum took care of the entertainment - a dozen string musicians who played a mini-concert of Little A's favorite classical pieces.
Before the musical interlude, the dozen children in attendance (children of his godparents, cousins and a couple of schoolmates) sat and painted at mini-easels, as art is another of Little A's current preferred activities. After tea and music there were a couple of rounds of pass the parcel and each child went home with a classical music cd, their artwork, and several items from our little shop.
Little A, for the first time, spent a significant amount of time interacting with his cousins at the piano. He went swimming instead of painting and had Big A drive him, and a few companions, around the garden in my dad's golf cart during pass the parcel, but on the whole he seemed to enjoy his party, apart from. A few tears during the concert, no doubt in anticipation of the dreaded applause.
He has another small ceremony at school the next day, but unlike last year has not yet had any post-party stress or sleeplessness. Perhaps he is growing up and dealing with his anxiety better. He is seven now, after all, and this is a number he's looked forward to for ages, so will hopefully spend his year wisely and well.