My grandson recently had his birthday—he turned ten, a big milestone. I’d picked out a gift ahead of time, one I thought would be perfect for the occasion. It was a large box of building blocks, something he’d been going on about for ages. On the day, I got ready, put on my nicest dress, and headed over to their place. I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, I heard quick footsteps hurrying to let me in.
“Come through to the kitchen, Mum,” said my daughter, opening the door. Her voice was warm but had that slight tired edge, 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—his name was Oliver. But instead of answering, I just nodded, holding onto the brightly wrapped present. The kitchen table was already set: colourful plates, cartoon-themed napkins, and a big cake with ten candles waiting to be lit. Oliver sat at the head of the table, grinning from ear to ear. His friends, a bunch of lively ten-year-olds, were all chattering away, talking over each other excitedly.
“Gran, is that you?” Oliver called out when he spotted me. He dashed over, gave me a hug, then zeroed in on the box in my hands. “Is that for me?”
“Of course it is, love,” I said, handing it over. “Go on, open it—don’t keep us waiting!”
He tore into the wrapping, and his eyes lit up when he saw the building blocks. The other kids immediately crowded around, peering at the box and shouting out ideas for what he could build. Watching the chaos, I felt my heart swell. There’s nothing quite like seeing a child’s joy, especially on their birthday.
My daughter—who I still thought of as Emily in my head—came over and whispered,
“Thanks, Mum. You always know how to make him happy.”
I just shrugged, like it was nothing. But truth be told, I’d put a lot of thought into the gift. Ten isn’t just any birthday—it’s the age where kids start feeling almost grown-up. I wanted it to be more than just a toy, something he’d actually remember.
The party carried on. The kids played, laughed, and then it was time for the candles. Oliver made a wish, took a deep breath, and blew all ten out in one go. Everyone cheered, and Emily started cutting the cake, handing out slices. I sat back, watching the happy chaos, thinking how fast time flies. It felt like just yesterday Oliver was a toddler, and now here he was, with his own little hobbies and dreams.
Once the cake was gone and the kids had scattered to play, Emily sat down next to me. We got chatting about how much life had changed, how quickly the kids grow up. She told me Oliver had recently gotten into robotics and even joined a club where they build models. Listening to her, I was chuffed my gift had hit the mark.
“You know, Mum,” Emily said, “he’s been counting down to this day. And you being here—that’s the best part of it for him.”
I smiled, but inside, I thought I was the one who should be thanking them. Being a gran is something special. You’re not shouldering all the responsibility like a parent, but you get to give all that love and support—and yes, a little spoiling too.
By evening, as guests started leaving, Oliver ran up to me with a model he’d already built—a little spaceship. He proudly showed it off, explaining how he was going to make a whole galaxy next. I listened, properly impressed, thinking this birthday would stick in our memories for years.
Heading home, I felt light and happy. Ten is just the beginning. Oliver’s got so much ahead of him, and I hope I’m around to see him grow into whoever he dreams of being. But for now, I’m just glad I could give him a little bit of magic on his special day.
