I Thought I Had a Really Good Idea.

Because we were behind on Max's birthday celebration, and we weren't planning anything too over the top or out of the ordinary, how about we surprise him with his party?

 I sent the boys off on an errand and quickly threw up some streamers and pulled out the wrapped presents. I had planned a few games with prizes.  I put the finishing touches on the Darth Vader cake.  My parents brought over a bouquet of helium balloons and helped me decorate.

Dan texted me when they were nearly home.  We gathered by the front door and when the boys walked in, it was not quite the reaction I had anticipated.  I should have continued taking pictures just for illustration's sake, but once I realized he was not amused I put the camera down.

Luke, on the other hand, would have been totally pleased with a surprise party. And in case you weren't sure, Dan kind of likes BYU. Sometimes I just don't think he shows enough support for his team.

Anyway, Max walked into the foyer, his back to us all, and stood there with his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.

He did not want to play games.  He did not want to eat dinner. He did not want to have a party.


He did want to open presents.

I never was able to talk him into any games, but after presents we ate dinner and cake.


Of course he volunteered for the prayer and he kept it short and sweet.

"Dear Heavenly Father, Pweese bwess my Darf Gator cake.  In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen"


The table favors were quite a hit.

His happiest moment seemed to be when we sang Happy Birthday.

In fact he continued to sing it to himself as he ate.


He is a funny boy.  And as perfectly illustrated by this night, he can either be hot or cold, sweet or sour, well behaved or naughty, and the choice is simply not yours.  It's totally, totally his. He will not be swayed, encouraged, bribed, or talked into.


He insists that his middle name is Daniel even though it is Joseph.  In fact, he insists that everyone's middle and last name is Daniel Colton. (Grandma Daniel Colton, Ava Daniel Colton, etc)

He still always tells me "You're my baby" or "You're my baby pumpkin" and  I die a little each time, it's so cute.

But what is really ironic about this whole birthday scenario is that while he was excited to have one, he has some sort of baby complex and seems to be holding tightly to anything "baby" he can clutch.

He refuses to give up his crib.

He refuses to give up diapers.

And he refuses to eat with regular utensils.  He digs through the silverware drawer for every meal and will settle only once he has a "baby spoon", the kind that can hold barely an 1/8th of a teaspoon.


He eagerly talks about the baby in my tummy.


 But he's still my baby too, and he's not giving that up without a fight.


We had talked about his birthday for quite some time.  He seemed to feel that turning three was synonymous with him being Darth Vader (that's what happens, I suppose, when you can't distinguish between Halloween and your birthday),  almost like he would turn into Darth Vader on his birthday.

But as it was happening, I realized that as long as he thinks he's going to turn into some fictional character, an introduction to Peter Pan might be more up his alley.