So I told Maarten yesterday that he should really appreciate it now as much as possible, remember clearly what it was like, because tomorrow morning he would wake up and he would no longer be younger than ten any more. Batches of ten years are true milestones in one's life, important phases we all go through. Once the door opens and the decades close behind us, there is no turning back. Enjoy the pre-ten years, the single digit mode of existence, because tomorrow it would be no more.
The whole speech had been planned and prepared ahead of time. My tone of voice and gestures were pieces of artistic drama in a beautiful scene called 'My little son goes to bed and grows up (too) quickly.'
There I was telling him all of this with tears welling up in my eyes.
Maarten could only roll over in his bed and laugh at me. Giggle and ha ha ha.
So I asked him why he thought it was so funny.
Turns out that tomorrow is not his tenth birthday, but his NINTH!
I couldn't believe it. So I asked the usual challenge: what year were you born? Without hesitation he answered back 1994 of course. Quick calculation in my head, and yes nine years it was indeed. Stupid, stupid...
Could I be losing it?