We’re still obsessed with happy birthday over here. E can almost sing it by himself, but he still prefers it if we sing it, or we watch his two minute clip on Netflix. The drive home from daycare is prime happy birthday singing time. Lately, singing it is no longer enough. He’s requested that we merge his two favorite things, and sing “Orange Happy Birthday.”
So I sing. “Orange happy birthday to you. Orange happy birthday to you. Orange happy birthday, happy birthday. Orange happy birthday to you.” Over and over and over.
I have sang happy birthday more in the past few weeks than I have in the entirety of my life up to this point. (Which is actually a pretty low bar. If I’m being honest, I never actually sing in a group setting when we’re singing to someone. Whoops!) I have sang enough to personally wish every single person a happy birthday.
One of the funniest things that’s happened recently, involves one of E’s favorite people at daycare. She used to be one of the rotating teachers, and he liked her then, but now she’s the chef. She literally “does cooking” all day long. Nothing could be cooler in E’s eyes.
She turned 25 recently, and a bunch of the staff decorated the door to the kitchen, and there were signs everywhere. E got REALLY excited to wish her happy birthday. Except now he does it every day. People get really confused and ask her if it’s her birthday. The other day she laughed and said she must be 40 by now with all the birthday’s she’s had this year.
Every kid gets a sign on the door when it’s their birthday, so yesterday E was looking at that day’s sign. “CAKE!” he shouted, since the sign has a bunch of cupcakes with candles on it. Then as I was maneuvering the stroller and baby G out the door, I could hear him singing quietly. He was singing happy birthday to the chef.