So, today is Riya’s 8th birthday. (Oh, holy crap.)
She was born at 12:28 (24? 26? Am I a terrible mother for never being able to keep this straight? I know it was after midnight but before 1 a.m., just like I know there are 7 minutes between Karina and Ben but I have no idea what time, exactly, either was born. I was busy.) a.m.
Yesterday, as a joke, I asked Riya if she would like me to wake her up at 12:28 (or whatever) to wish her a happy birthday at the exact moment she turned 8. She took me seriously. (Of course she did.)
It seemed to mean a lot to her, so after the kids went to bed I (well, Robin) set the alarm on my phone for 12:20. (Close enough.) It went off, and the two of us staggered into the girls’ room. We managed not to wake Karina or Ben (Robin’s parents are staying with us, so Ben’s rooming with the girls for a while), and Riya woke up enough to grin at us and say, “Thank you!” when we wished her a happy birthday.
(Brief aside/dramatic pause: when Riya told my mom about this plan, my mom said, “Don’t do it. Just tell her in the morning that you woke her up and that she must not remember it.”)
This morning around 6:30, I heard the sound of stomping 8-year-old feet as she marched from her room to ours. “MOM! You FORGOT! You DID NOT wake me up last night!”
(My mom was right. Of course she was.)
Happy birthday, my lovable, fiery, glorious girl.