EWAN’S BLOG AGED 3 Years – My Birthday – How old?

EWAN’S BLOG AGED 3 Years – My Birthday – How old?

Hi Ewan here.

You know it’s your birthday when before you are properly awake one morning, Mum or Dad or both come into my bedroom playing a video on their phone of Cousin Freya looking grim and half asleep being forced into singing “Happy Birthday to Ewan”, by Auntie NanNan. Swiftly followed by another rendition by the cat’s chorus of Mamma and Grandad. They go on to sing some form of “Today is your birthday” which they do not know the words to or the tune. They sing out of tune and clearly do not rehearse or work at it before hand. Very shoddy workmanship, you’d think they would have more pride for their grandson.

Birthdays are like Christmas but different. At Christmas the focus is on everyone and everyone gets presents whether they want any or not. But not birthdays. There is only me who has a birthday on my birthday.

But even though there is only me having a birthday we still get a holiday. They do not call it Christmas Holiday but they give it a fancy name “Half Term”. Not really full of cheer is it? They could call it Ewanmas, couldn’t they?

I was under a misapprehension about birthdays. I thought you could just choose the number birthday you wanted to be. I had chosen to be four years old on my birthday. I have surveyed everyone I know and realised that if you are three and under, you are just shit upon and expected to have life explained to you all the time. Your life is full of patronisation too.

At five years old and older you are expected to go responsibly and grown up into the world. You have to go to school and that’s a whole new culture and learning curve from where I sit on my potty.

At four you are top of nursery and respected by all the other inmates. They know you are the wisest, the most experienced and oldest, that you rule and you’ll take no messing and you get to play with any toy you want to, no arguments.

There’s a TV channel named 4 too. I can count up to four, and four looks and sounds good. Have you seen the shape of it? Awesome.

But apparently you can’t just choose your age, or so my mum says – to say she considered being a human rights lawyer I do not think she puts it into practice. Aren’t my human rights affected if I want to be four, I should have the human right to be four!

Apparently, grownups complicate it as they do with everything in life. There’s this complex mathematical formulae you have to use to work out how old you are on your birthday. And what’s worse you are stuck with that age like it or not until your next birthday when a new calculation is done. And that takes forever. You have to wait at least half your life again. Well I did from waiting from my second birthday to the third.

I think the calculation is that you count the number of days from the day you were born till your birthday.

Rory counted 1,096. That is another downside of being five years old. At school they expect you read words and don’t just make up stories from books and not just count to four but count to over 1,000. I have just one question, Why?

You then have to divide by 7 and that answer by 52 and then that’s the number you can use as your age.

Phew my brain hurts. Don’t grownups complicate things? My way is so much easier.

It doesn’t apply to Grandad, can’t do otherwise he would be one hundred trillion, zillion years old. So if he can choose a number I should be able to.

The thing that surprised me is that although I had told everyone I was four, every single birthday card I received had a three on it. To me that just means nobody, not even Grandad listens to me. I was so cross. How soul destroying is that?

So I’m sure you’ve got the message that on Saturday 17th February 2018 it was my 3rd birthday!

I have had a majorly brilliant time. Celebrations go on all week, so over the next few days I will share the details with you in my blog.

Bye-dee bye, Ewan.

 

 

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