The Little Bee’s Third Birthday
The kitchen was filled with the scent of warm vanilla and laughter. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden glow on the little girl sitting at the table. Her name was Lily, and today was her third birthday.
A single candle flickered atop a cake decorated with buzzing bees and swirls of honey-colored frosting. Her tiny hands rested on the table, fingers curled with excitement. The dress she wore, adorned with delicate flowers, made her look like a character from a fairytale. A pink bow sat atop her soft curls, framing her bright, expectant eyes.
Lily’s mother stood a few steps away, hands clasped over her heart, watching her daughter with misty eyes. Three years. Three whole years since she first held that tiny bundle in her arms, whispering promises of love and protection. How had time flown by so quickly?
Her father lit the candle with steady hands. “Make a wish, my sweet bee,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.
Lily’s small lips pursed as she thought carefully. She didn’t fully understand the power of wishes, but she knew they were special. She closed her eyes, scrunching up her nose, and in that fleeting second, a world of innocent dreams and unspoken hopes filled the air. Then, with all the might of a three-year-old, she blew.
The tiny flame flickered, wavered, and then disappeared. A moment of silence followed, then cheers and claps from her parents. She giggled, her face lighting up with pure joy, her hands coming together in a tiny clap of her own.
They sat together, slicing into the cake, laughter filling the room. Crumbs scattered, fingers dipped into frosting, and for a while, the world outside ceased to exist. This was their moment, wrapped in love, simple yet perfect.
Gaige blows out two candles 😁 on his birthday.
After cake came gifts, but none were as precious as the memories being created. Her mother handed her a small book, one she had been working on for months. “This,” she said, brushing a stray curl from Lily’s forehead, “is a story about you.”
Lily’s fingers traced the cover, wide-eyed. It was filled with drawings, little stories of her first steps, her first words, her adventures in the garden chasing butterflies. “For when you’re bigger,” her mother whispered, “so you’ll always remember how loved you are.”
Her father picked her up, spinning her in the air, filling the kitchen with delighted squeals. “To our little bee,” he declared, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “The sweetest, bravest, most wonderful girl in the world.”
Outside, the late afternoon sun bathed everything in gold. As the day came to an end, Lily lay curled in her mother’s arms, her eyelids growing heavy. “Mama,” she murmured sleepily. “I wished for us to always be together.”
Tears prickled at the corners of her mother’s eyes as she held her baby close, kissing the top of her head. “Oh, my love,” she whispered, rocking her gently. “That’s my wish too.”
And in the quiet hum of the evening, as fireflies danced outside the window, a little girl drifted off to sleep, wrapped in warmth, in love, in a promise that would never fade.
