“I’m not four”
“I’m not four”
Published 8-25.10 Cass Lake Times
By Allan Olson
Last weekend we celebrated my twins fourth birthday. It
was a relatively small affair in comparison to previous
parties. That morning when my youngest son Marcus got up,
I wished him happy birthday and after that it was a point
of laughter and discussion the remainder of the day.
“How old are you today?” I asked him.
“Three,” he replied.
No, I told him you’re four – it’s your birthday.
“It’s not my birthday,” he said.
Okay, I thought, let’s try a different approach.
I realize that denial is common when you get older, but
I thought he was a little young for that, so maybe he was
just confused.
I told his sister happy birthday over an hour before
when we got up and she was fine with the whole thing.
She was four and she wanted to eat her “Pinkie Pie”
birthday cake. I asked Abigail how old she was – with
Marcus right beside her – and she said she was four.
Turning to Marcus, I said, “If Abigail is four,
aren’t
you four?”
“No, I’m three,” he said.
“When is your birthday?”
“August 21,” he answered.
So I explained to him that today is August 21. It
didn’t
matter. He was three and he wasn’t changing his mind.
Now, technically his birthday wasn’t official until
9:47
p.m. It was like he internally knew it wasn’t his
birthday
until later.
His sister, on the other hand, was four ... and she
wanted her birthday cake. But then she’d wanted to eat
her
cake since she saw it on Thursday.
Several times a day she would ask if she could have her
cake now. Each time the answer was the same and she would
go on to something else. Yet, she was fully willing to
accept the fact that today was her birthday and she would
even sing happy birthday to herself.
Throughout the day we would try to get Marcus to say he
was four, but no matter who asked him or how we phrased
the question his answer never wavered. He was three.
When it was time for presents someone jokingly told him
that they would have to take his presents back if he
wasn’t four. It apparently didn’t matter; he told them
that he was three. Even an empty threat of losing his
presents wouldn’t work.
The day progressed on the cake was eaten, the presents
opened, but he was still three. The closer it got to the
magical hour of his actual time of birth the less
argumentative he got, but his answer never changed. His
sister, she could care less about his age conflict; she
was four and she had new presents to play with. She had a
comb with a mirror on it so she could check her hair out
after she was done brushing it, plus a new Barbie, Pinkie
Pie pony and stickers.
Marcus was also happy with new toys, but he was still
three. Leading up to his birthday for the last several
months, all we would hear whenever his birthday was
mentioned, was how old he was going to be. “I’m going
to
be this many,” he would say while holding up four
fingers,
“and then this many,” jumping another year to age five.
The common response for many people is to lie about
their age. When they’re older they say they’re
younger,
but when their younger they always want to be older. But
that’s normally not the case with little kids.
The evening went on and bedtime approached and the
magical hour was passed, but he was still three. Although
he was less argumentative about it, he was still adamant.
He was three.
The next morning when he was asked how old he was,
“Four ,” he replied. So something happened during the night.
Perhaps the day was gone and a new day was here so all
was complete and he was okay to be four or maybe he
dreamed about the number “4” all night.
Did I ask what changed his mind or why he was four today
and not yesterday? No, I figured I’d just better let him
make up his own mind about how old he is, or perhaps he
might get more confused about his age like some older
folks commonly do.
Published 8-25.10 Cass Lake Times
By Allan Olson
Last weekend we celebrated my twins fourth birthday. It
was a relatively small affair in comparison to previous
parties. That morning when my youngest son Marcus got up,
I wished him happy birthday and after that it was a point
of laughter and discussion the remainder of the day.
“How old are you today?” I asked him.
“Three,” he replied.
No, I told him you’re four – it’s your birthday.
“It’s not my birthday,” he said.
Okay, I thought, let’s try a different approach.
I realize that denial is common when you get older, but
I thought he was a little young for that, so maybe he was
just confused.
I told his sister happy birthday over an hour before
when we got up and she was fine with the whole thing.
She was four and she wanted to eat her “Pinkie Pie”
birthday cake. I asked Abigail how old she was – with
Marcus right beside her – and she said she was four.
Turning to Marcus, I said, “If Abigail is four,
aren’t
you four?”
“No, I’m three,” he said.
“When is your birthday?”
“August 21,” he answered.
So I explained to him that today is August 21. It
didn’t
matter. He was three and he wasn’t changing his mind.
Now, technically his birthday wasn’t official until
9:47
p.m. It was like he internally knew it wasn’t his
birthday
until later.
His sister, on the other hand, was four ... and she
wanted her birthday cake. But then she’d wanted to eat
her
cake since she saw it on Thursday.
Several times a day she would ask if she could have her
cake now. Each time the answer was the same and she would
go on to something else. Yet, she was fully willing to
accept the fact that today was her birthday and she would
even sing happy birthday to herself.
Throughout the day we would try to get Marcus to say he
was four, but no matter who asked him or how we phrased
the question his answer never wavered. He was three.
When it was time for presents someone jokingly told him
that they would have to take his presents back if he
wasn’t four. It apparently didn’t matter; he told them
that he was three. Even an empty threat of losing his
presents wouldn’t work.
The day progressed on the cake was eaten, the presents
opened, but he was still three. The closer it got to the
magical hour of his actual time of birth the less
argumentative he got, but his answer never changed. His
sister, she could care less about his age conflict; she
was four and she had new presents to play with. She had a
comb with a mirror on it so she could check her hair out
after she was done brushing it, plus a new Barbie, Pinkie
Pie pony and stickers.
Marcus was also happy with new toys, but he was still
three. Leading up to his birthday for the last several
months, all we would hear whenever his birthday was
mentioned, was how old he was going to be. “I’m going
to
be this many,” he would say while holding up four
fingers,
“and then this many,” jumping another year to age five.
The common response for many people is to lie about
their age. When they’re older they say they’re
younger,
but when their younger they always want to be older. But
that’s normally not the case with little kids.
The evening went on and bedtime approached and the
magical hour was passed, but he was still three. Although
he was less argumentative about it, he was still adamant.
He was three.
The next morning when he was asked how old he was,
“Four ,” he replied. So something happened during the night.
Perhaps the day was gone and a new day was here so all
was complete and he was okay to be four or maybe he
dreamed about the number “4” all night.
Did I ask what changed his mind or why he was four today
and not yesterday? No, I figured I’d just better let him
make up his own mind about how old he is, or perhaps he
might get more confused about his age like some older
folks commonly do.
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