6 candles?

I'm not generally weepy over birthdays. We all know time goes by quickly when we're watching our children grow and change. But this number caught me by surprise.

Of course I knew Five was turning Six. I know what year it is and though I may not always appear sane, like the time I called my friend crying from the closet, or the infamous grocery store incident that led to my husband doing the shopping for a month straight, I do actually have myself pulled together most of the time. So when you ask me my kids ages, I will respond appropriately.

Six, I would say. Four and six. But on Five's sixth birthday this year our remodeling project was in full swing (it still is), so auntie offered to make the cake and have our small family party at her house. She made a decadent, round, double layer vanilla cake, all from scratch, even the frosting. The body and layer of the cake was covered with creamy vanilla and the top and bottom were lined with delicate chocolate flower petals. She arranged the candles in two sets of three. Two sets of three. When it came time for cake, my sister lit the candles and then I offered to bring the cake to my birthday boy, in hindsight perhaps I was stealing her thunder, she did all the work, after all. But as I began singing Happy Birthday, I looked down at this incredible cake and saw the candle arrangement for the first time. I counted in my head. I counted again. While still singing, I whispered to my sister, "You put too many candles on the cake."

She looked down, confused, and said, "There's six."

"I know," I said, still singing.

She looked at me, differently now, and I detected I deeper sense of confusion, even worry. "He's six," she said with gentle firmness.

I had reached the table at that point, and put a smile on through my tears. I cried all the way home.