The Last First American Birthday

My second son turned nine today.  As we approach the first anniversary of our arrival in America, this means that his was the last in the family sequence of first American birthdays.  He had a strange birthday last year: his daddy was on the other side of the ocean, we were living with his grandparents and he was being homeschooled since we were between countries and curricula.  It was fun, as childhood birthdays are and being homeschooled he at least secured a day off school, but it was nevertheless a strange one.  This year, he has been bubbling with anticipation and excitement for months in the run up to the day itself.  Thankfully it appears to have lived up to expectations.  He loved all of his gifts, many of them geeky such as a crocheted Death Star and a gift card for our local comic book store.  He requested my homemade Kashmiri chicken curry for dinner and then dessert was an ice cream cake.  He has birthday plans for the weekend too as he wants to go on his shopping spree at the comic book store tomorrow and on Sunday we are taking him, along with his brothers and two of his friends to the cinema and a restaurant for dinner.

So that’s it: every member of the Pict family has had a birthday in America now; we have all had that milestone “first”.  That means, of course, that the next anniversary is imminent now.  In a few short weeks it will be a year since the children and I arrived in the USA.

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