My grandson recently celebrated his birthday—his tenth, a proper milestone. I’d picked out a gift ahead of time, one I thought would be absolutely perfect for the occasion. It was a big box of building bricks, the exact set he’d been going on about for ages. On the day, I got ready, put on my best dress, and headed over. When I reached the door and rang the bell, I heard quick little footsteps rushing to answer.
“Come through to the kitchen, Mum,” my daughter said as she opened the door. Her voice was warm but with just a hint of tiredness, like she’d been prepping for the party all day. “You do remember our birthday boy’s name, don’t you?”
I smiled as I stepped inside. Of course I remembered—my grandson’s name is Oliver. But instead of answering, I just nodded, clutching the brightly wrapped present in my hands. The kitchen table was already set with colourful plates, cartoon-themed napkins, and a big cake with ten candles waiting to be lit. Oliver sat at the head of the table, beaming. His mates, all just as lively and ten years old, were chatting loudly, talking over each other.
“Granny, is that you?” Oliver called out when he spotted me. He ran over, gave me a hug, then stared at the box in my hands with wide eyes. “Is that for me?”
“Of course it is, love,” I said, handing it over. “Go on, don’t keep us waiting!”
He tore into the wrapping paper, and his face lit up when he saw the building set. The other kids crowded around, all peering at the bricks and shouting suggestions about what to make first. Watching the excitement, I felt that warm glow in my chest—nothing beats seeing a child’s joy, especially on their birthday.
My daughter—who I still sometimes think of as Emily in my head—came over and whispered,
“Thanks, Mum. You always know how to make his day.”
I just shrugged, like it was nothing. But truth be told, I’d put a lot of thought into it. Ten isn’t just any birthday—it’s the age where kids start feeling almost grown-up. I wanted his gift to be more than just a toy, something he’d remember.
The party carried on—games, laughter, then the moment to blow out the candles. Oliver made a wish, took a deep breath, and got all ten in one go. Everyone clapped, and Emily started cutting the cake, handing out slices. I sat back, watching the happy chaos, thinking how fast time flies. It feels like just yesterday Oliver was tiny, and now he’s got his own hobbies, his own dreams.
Once the cake was done and the kids ran off to play, Emily sat down next to me. We got talking about how things change, how quickly they grow up. She told me Oliver’s really into robotics now—he’s even signed up for a club where they build models. I was chuffed to bits—looks like my gift was spot on.
“You know, Mum,” Emily said, “he’s been counting down to this day. And you being here? That’s the best present.”
I smiled, but inside, I thought it was me who should be thanking *them* for moments like these. Being a grandmother is something special. You’re not the one in charge anymore, but you get to give all the love, the support—and yes, a little spoiling too.
By the evening, as guests started leaving, Oliver ran over with a little spaceship he’d built from the bricks. He showed it off proudly, telling me how he’s going to make a whole galaxy next. I listened, amazed, thinking this birthday would stick in all our memories for a long time.
Heading home, I felt light and happy. Ten years is just the start. There’s so much ahead for Oliver, and I hope I’m there to see him grow into whoever he wants to be. But for now, I’m just glad I could give him a bit of magic on his special day.
