And as I feared, the 11th birthday was less than hoped for. Even with a special treat from her grandparents of high tea at the venerable Carolina Inn, and several things from her wishlist among her presents, not to mention dinner at Red Robin (her choice as queen of the day).

But tea wasn't fun because she couldn't bring a friend along, and dinner was spoilt because her sister sulked at the choice, and her presents didn't include the pretty evening purse that her sister got a month ago, and oh, why couldn't my birthday be on Friday and not Saturday anyway?

I wonder how old we have to be before we start to appreciate that once time is gone, it's gone forever. That 11th birthday will never come around again, so is it worth fretting that things don't always go according to some vague idealised expectations?

I guess that's a lesson that comes easier to some of us than others, and I just hope she realises it before too many birthdays have gone by.