Zac’s Last Travel Birthday
Zac was nine when we started travelling. He spent his tenth birthday in Brisbane, ice-skating with me and his dad. I didn’t take pictures of that.
He spent his eleventh birthday in Beijing, a split celebration: half at the Happy Valley theme park, half an underwhelming and icy sojourn at the water park in The Cube. I didn’t take pictures of either.
For his twelfth birthday, we were in Pokhara, Nepal, a world class paragliding site, so he went paragliding, his favourite adventure ever. The instructor took pictures:
For his thirteenth birthday, since we had a house, and a garden, and friends to invite to both, we had a little fireworks do, something we used to do for birthdays in England.
There was cake (bought, not made). There were candles. There were gifts, including a T-shirt and a hoodie he still wears. And… we were with friends.
We made a bonfire from some yard crap, and he climbed up onto the flat roof of our house to set off fireworks.
I took pictures this time. I wish I had pictures of the others, though.
Further, I can’t believe his next will be fourteen. Blimey, time does fly.