My niece, Little B, is about 3 1/2 years old. On Wednesday, she went to preschool and told the teacher her birthday was that day. She wasn’t going to have a party that night, but she was having one over the weekend. It was going to be a Frozen themed birthday, with Elsa and a pretty frozen cake. She said all her little friends were coming, as well as all her family.
“Except gwandma Gaga,” she explained. Grandma Gaga is her name for my mother, her grandma. “Gaga can’t come because she lives willy faw away. But she visits me in my iPad a lot.”
The class sang her happy birthday and treated her nice all day because she was “the birthday girl.”
Sister-in-law picked up Little B from preschool. The teacher approached her, and said “Why didn’t you tell us it was Little B’s birthday? We could have had a whole little party for her. We did sing her happy birthday, though.”
“What are you talking about?” asked sister-in-law.
“Little B’s birthday… she said it was today. That you’re having a Frozen-themed party this weekend…” said the teacher, uncertainty growing in her voice.
“Little B’s birthday isn’t until March.”
*Want to read more about Little B? Go here.