I had a teacher in junior high who took great pleasure out of telling us that we were actually older than him, as he was only twelve. He’s the only person I’ve ever known who had Leap Day as their birthday.
I remember as a kid feeling sorry for anyone born February 29th, as they only got to really celebrate their birthday once every four years. Sure, they may have had parties and cakes and celebrations, but they didn’t have that special birthday day experience that only a child can feel, and only on their actual birthday.
In my house the birthday person ate off of the good china while everyone else used paper plates. Breakfast, lunch and dinner menus were at the behest of the birthday girl. Activities were planned based on what the birthday girl wanted to do. It was fun and special and we always felt blessed. My sister and I have birthdays only twelve days apart, so it made for a fun month.
Now that I’m an adult birthdays don’t revolve around me any longer (how did that happen?). I do still usually make sure I get a special treat of some kind on my birthday, and Husband knows I’d better get a homemade white cake with chocolate frosting (this is your reminder, honey).
And since time seems to speed up so much the older I get, an only-once-every-four-years birthday is looking much more attractive.