Big Boy Birthday

I know I'm not as mature as my sister, but I was really hoping my mommy would have reconsidered my birthday wish, you only turn 16 once!

My sister is so responsible though, she makes her bed, cleans her room, helps with dishes and taking the trash out. It's no wonder my parents let her go visit friends and watch whatever shows she wants, and trust her not to make a mess feeding herself. Who even potty-trains at 3, she's incredible.

So I begin my birthday like I do almost everyday, stretch out in my crib, hug my teddy, and debate going back to sleep. But I have to prove I'm a big boy today. I take out my pacifier before I talk to my baby monitor.
"Mommy I'm awake." I say, calmly, no fussy frustration in my voice at being stuck in my crib when I could be playing with toys. I'm not crying because I'm hungry either, though I am.
I lay back and put my paci back in, to wait for attention. I bet my sister is already dressed for 6th grade and is feeding herself cereal she poured herself.

Mommy does come into my nursery though. "Good morning birthday baby!" She says in chipper happy tone. I smile behind my paci and sit up, arms up to ask to be let out. She stopped carrying me a while ago, finally trusted to walk with a hand-holder. See I am mature! She let's the side of my crib down, and walks me o my changing table. I climb up and, once again like a mature big boy, hold my legs up high so she has easy access to change my diaper.
Popping the snaps of my onesie, she gets to work cleaning the mess my spoonfed dinner made. Wiped up nice and clean, powdered, and in a fresh clean diaper, I sit up and hold my arms up, not being asked to, so she can take my pajamas off. I am so mature and curteous.

She takes the onesie off and leaves me naked. "Don' I need cwoths?" Fussybutt! I forgot to take my paci out to talk. Now I'll never get my birthday wish! She tuts, "After brekkies baby."

Baby. It's what everyone, even my younger sister, calls me. If only I hadn't prioritized my paci over talking clearly, such a babyish act. I blush at my immaturity, taking mommy's offered hand to be walked to the kitchen. I can see my sister waiting for the toaster, I can smell her savory pastry breakfast. She was so cool, cooking her own food that I couldn't be given, choking hazard.

"Morning baby brother!" She comments, the toaster pops, I jump back at the sudden noise. Mommy rubs my shoulder to help me calm down, it's more helpful than I would like to admit. I take my paci out, "Good morning, you gotted ready for big kid school?"

"Getting." My mommy corrects, she let's my hand go so I sit on the floor, near my younger sister. "Yes, I have an essay to turn in for English today. Are you looking forward to daycare?"

"Yes! Everyone is gunna sing for my birthday!" I say excitedly, at least there they would have to acknowledge that I am getting bigger. My playmates range from tiny babies to big babies like me, who aren't mature enough for school yet.

My sister pats my head and carries her plate to sit at the grown-up table and eat breakfast. Mommy has a warm bowl and spoon, and takes my hand to lead me to my highchair. Without clothes to protect I don't have to wear my bib. I take my seat and hold my arms up to let the tray be latched. Mommy starts to spoonfeed me the warmed beige puree, a slight mango taste to it. Firstly, she isn't making airplane or choo-choo noises, so she is treating me more maturely already, maybe I will get my birthday wish, secondly, breakfast had a flavor. Most of the time my mush is bland, occasionally getting yucky vegetables or overly salty meat, neither being very good, but today on my special day I get this special fruity treat.

A very mature thing to do would be to be thankful, "Yummy, thank you for the nummy brekkies." I tell my Mommy during a break between spoonfuls.

"You're very welcome, and look at how clean your face is, maybe you are becoming a big kid, like you're younger sister."

Oh man, what praise! I clap wildly and squeal. Mommy unlatches the tray to let me down. She leads be to the bathroom, to brush my teeth and comb my hair out. She pats my bottom to give me permission to go to my room. I get on all fours and crawl past my sister's room, the slightly open door letting me see her neatly made bed. She doesn't need bars, not since she was 3, such a grown-up. I crawl on down to my nursery to sit infront of my changing table and wait to get dressed. I had tried five years ago to dress myself, tried having my favorite footie and onesie at the same time, but got tangled up trying to have them both. Mommy was a little cross with me for that.

Speaking of, Mommy walked in, her hair and make-up all done up too. She dug through my closet to get my play clothes. She actually set out jean shorts, I almost never get to have my diaper covered! She helps me get those and a green shirt with a smily sun on it. She holds my hand to lead me out with my sister to the minivan. My sister gets to sit up front like a grown-up while I get buckled into my carseat, not trusted to not play with the regular buckle. I decide that I won't chew the straps or fuss about being confined. Mommy gives me my paci back, so I stay quiet on the ride. We go and drop my sister off at big kid school. Then we go to my daycare.