Birthday Choices

Today is my daughter’s fourth birthday. And there was only one rule. There will be no singing.

This preference was articulated early and often by her, starting at around 7:45 am. On our way to preschool, the first thing she asked was: Will there be singing today?

Yes, I responded, they will sing happy birthday, to you. She looked out the window resigned, clearly forlorn.

When I picked her up, I asked right away, Did they sing?

Yes, she responded, but it didn’t last too long. But Mom, I really don’t want you guys to sing tonight.

I nodded. Honey, I said, it’s your birthday, you get to decide. You can make the choices. The wheels in her brain clicked around. She nodded, content. This was a concept she could get behind.

Back at home, when her dad walked in, he yelled, Happy birthday!

Daddy! she shrieked, running to greet him. But Daddy, we’re not singing because it’s my birthday, and I make the choices.

How about candles? I asked, Can we do some candles?

Candles are fine; I like candles. Noted. Candles are a-go. Singing, not so much.

When it came time for cake, she shot me one more look. I gave her the thumbs up as I marched silently, awkwardly over to her seat holding the cake adorned with five, glowing candles.

Make a wish! said her family. She nodded and blew out the candles.

What was your wish? asked her brother. You can tell your family and it will still come true.

I’m not telling nobody, she responded.

I cut pieces of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, which nobody ate, despite the fact that my daughter picked it out specially, after quite the deliberation. I scooped up heaping scoops of Neapolitan ice cream, which were a huge hit.

Then we headed outside for a birthday scoot around the block.

But I’m stumped… what’s up with the no singing rule? Is it too loud? A sensory issue? Or is it the attention? Too many people staring and singing to her? My daughter LOVES to sing and dance. She is a natural performer. Can she not tolerate the sound of other peoples’ voices? We do have some very tone deaf people in our family…

I’m at a loss. But life is too short. If she doesn’t want the songs, we shall be silent. It is her day.

So, to my little girl on her birthday, we love you when you are loud and when you are quiet. We love you when you’re crabby and opinionated. We love you when you’re lighting up our lives, as you so often do. Happy, happy birthday!

We promise, no songs. We promise our love.