Balloons, crepe paper, silly hats, and extremely sugary desserts are loads of fun when you’re eight.
As an adult, though, I don’t want any of that.
A quiet, celebratory dinner with my spouse where no one sings Happy Birthday off-key? Sure.
Making a big fuss over every single birthday for adults doesn’t make sense to me. One of the reasons why birthdays are so exciting when you’re growing up is that people change incredibly quickly over their first two decades. A three-year-old is mentally and physically able to do all kinds of things that simply aren’t possible for a two-year-old. Every time I see my niece and nephews, I’m amazed by how much they’ve matured. It’s fascinating to see kids go through this process, whether they’re seven weeks old or a senior in high school.
Unless we’re talking about lower car rental fees, you can’t say that about two people who are 24 and 25 years old. They are indistinguishable from each other in every way but this one, and it only matters on the rare occasion when they actually need to rent a car. It’s not something that affects the other 364 days of their lives.
The older someone gets, the fewer exceptions like this one you’ll be able to find. Adults usually change so slowly that all of their years blend together. A decade makes a difference for us. One year generally does not.
So it surprises me a little bit when adults want to celebrate their birthdays in big ways every single year. It would make more sense if they weren’t expecting to make it to their next birthday or if it was a milestone birthday.
Every year without exception, though?
I don’t get it. To me that’s kind of like celebrating your 357th month anniversary with your significant other and then counting down the days until your 358th month anniversary.
It’s not that I find it unethical or anything.
It’s just kind of odd.
To each their own, of course.
But this isn’t something I understand.