My almost 14-year-old is annoyed that I think his birthday is a bigger deal for me than it is for him. Still, it will always be my special day
I was casually telling my son, before his 14th birthday this week, why it was a bigger deal for me than it was for him. His birth was the best day of my life to that point, I explained; it was merely the first day of his life. I was looking out of the window, directly into the Palace of Westminster (it was St Thomas’ hospital, by Westminster Bridge), thinking I had just created something so miraculous that he was actually going to be the salvation of the world. I suddenly understood the story of the baby Jesus – it was a metaphor for the grandiosity of bliss. But I was also half-wondering when my myrrh would arrive. It’s possible I’d had too much gas and air. Still, I was conscious, just about. He was like a tiny blinking hedgehog. QED.
Back in the present day, this really annoyed him. I annoyed him more by going: “What? It’s not like I want you to get me a present. I will still observe your birthday in the regular way. You should just know that, really, it’s my special day.”