Tomorrow is Me Too’s birthday.
She wants me to write a book for her, like I did last year. It’s nice to have a fan. At least my kids love the books I can’t seem to get anyone in The Business to look at.
It’s kind of funny; from their point of view, they can have a new story whipped up for them anytime they fancy. It’s easy. Mommy is always happy to do it (though, frankly, I have gotten bored of doing new ‘Micey Mouse Clubhouse’ stories every night.)
But six (sigh.)
I’m struggling with.
In Japan, at six, you are thrust upon the world. Ready or not. You will go to elementary school, where one size fits all, from the little desks to the size of your lunch serving, the pace you work through your schoolbooks and the size of the lines in your notebook, there is only one size. And my little darling, because of me, you will never be an exact fit.
Of course, I could be overthinking it. Six was a hard time for Me First. I was still in a fog of shock and grief since Dad had died a few months before. The earthquake happened, and it shook me up in ways besides the obvious.
But maybe I’ll still come up with some inspiration. Six doesn’t have to be sad. Maybe it will be sixalicious.