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who's birthday?

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

In another sign of growing maturity, Kenny got it through his head this weekend that we were not celebrating his birthday but his mum's.

It took a while, but it happened. Naturally, he insisted first that she wear the "birthday ribbon" on her shoulder (something they do at his day care), and then decided that he should wear the birthday ribbon in stead. But he wasn't too put out that the attention was for her and not him. He told her in Japanese, "it's my birthday tomorrow."

We went to a dinner to jointly celebrate the birthdays of Mari and Andrew. After dinner, incredibly, the place held a mechanical bull riding competition. The introduction was so dramatic, with thumping sounds and alternating total darkness and flashing strobes, that Kenny screamed, "Scary!" and needed to cling to me. I eventually had to get him out of the restaurant. We watched the activity through a window for a while but he refused to go back inside.