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Das Geburtstagskind (und, Ich bin alt)
My goddaughter turned three years old today, and she called earlier to thank me for her pretty present. She was also eager to share tales about how unusual and fabulous her day was, and with some minor help from Mama—who added subjects and objects, corrected mis-declined nouns and ms-conjugated verbs, included some German-English translation, and all sorts of boring things like that—I was told all about it.
A picnic! A cake! All those presents! And best of all—Oma und Opa were there when she woke up, and they’re staying for a really long time! What more could a little big girl ask for?
That phone call made my entire afternoon. I think about how happy she is, and I get all warm and fuzzy inside. But, at the same time, I can’t believe she’s three already—time used to move slower; I’m sure of it.
Isn’t there a law against feeling this old when you’re only twenty-one?
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