Thirteen years old. It’s a big birthday; an entrance to the teen years. Only a little over a month ago, my big worry was what to buy my grandson. Something special? Or give him some birthday money?
The reality?? I texted his Dad to see if I should make an e-transfer. I could have gotten something from Amazon but grandmas and thirteen-year-old tastes don’t have a big overlap. In the end, I didn’t even send a card. My grandson may be thirteen but he’s pretty mature and his Dad explained that when the time is right, we’ll be together and we’ll get the gifts and have a belated celebration.
So…a thirteenth birthday can’t go totally unremarked. This morning, I made a video featuring me and the dogs. I sang “Woof, woof,” for them. I don’t think they get videos or singing. A bit later, Gary got his guitar and we sang Happy Birthday again. This time, me (not the best singer and the key was kind of high) and Gary, with the dogs nodding along. I kind of hope my grandson got a laugh. He texted a great thank you back…
This afternoon, his Dad sent pictures of his birthday cheesecake, his birthday bbq, and the birthday hug from his nine-year old sister. The expression on his face is so long suffering I laughed aloud. All the same, his family made the effort to show him he’s loved and to make the day special as it can be.
Thirteen. My grandson is a teenager. During normal times we’d have gone to the city this Saturday, had a very nice home cooked meal, and stayed overnight. In the morning we might have gone to The Moose Factory for brunch. A great place for kids because there’s no waiting and thirteen is still a kid. One of these days, when the pandemic is settled, we’ll do it.