This morning the luthier wished him happy birthday and said: "I can't believe you made it to 4." It was exactly what I was thinking. He has survived so many things including the infamous rat incident without conracting the bubonic plague or drinking foetid water from a fountain without contracting cholera or something similar. He has survived these and a thousand other potentially mortal activities including shoving so much food in his mouth he has nearly choked countless times and having tantrums so impressive I thought his head might actually explode and busting my onions so badly that I considered strangling him myself. Sacha is a blessed survivor.
He had to be induced into the world, my second son, and his birth story was suitably dramatic - in a B-grade shlock horror style rather than a life-threatening way . However when he was 6 weeks old we had a few truly scary moments where we didn't think he would make it to 1. He had cancer that eventually went into spontaneous remission without treatment. An experience which makes me hug him just that little bit tighter, especially on his birthday.
On his second birthday he declared " I am 2 now Mummy, and 2 is enough."
"Perhaps enough biscuits", I thought "but not nearly enough birthdays."
I find it hard to describe my little lad. He sees the world and approaches the adventure of life in his own unique, independent and strong way. When in Melbourne earlier this year Sacha talked his Aunt into taking him on a 7 stop train journey, just for the hell of it. By chance, they ended up in Balaclava where they alighted for nothing less than a Bacon bagel right in the heart of the bagel belt. A bacon bagel! - for some reason this kind of sums the boy up for me - he's quietly ready for adventure and always comes back with something unexpected. He looks at the world sideways.
And now he is 4 and a constant, amazing, extraordinary surprise and joy.
Life is good.
Happy Birthday Sacha!