“I’m sorry Cici … but in the real world you can’t be the little girl you want to be. Yes … you can put your hair up in pig tails and carry Kiwi around and colour till your heart’s content, but we both know that you’ll never wake up and truly be the little girl in body that you are in soul. Just as in the real world … I can never be your Mom … David can never be your Dad and the girls can’t be your sisters. It’s impossible.”

Cierra nodded solemnly and swallowed, “But … I think I could be pretty good at sports … for a girl that is … and … and I know it wouldn’t be as much fun for you … like it would be if I was your son … but … I’ll try really hard and I won’t cry and … if I’m tall I bet I’ll be good at basketball if my knees aint busted again … or I’ll play baseball … or maybe even football … and that would be cheaper for you then if I was a boy ‘cause you won’t got to buy me a cup … just pads.”

David’s face turned crimson as he dropped it against his chest and whined. “Five women in the house … I’m always buying pads.”

“The only thing special for me about this birthday is the fact I’m spending it with the two of you. I don’t feel like celebrating fifty years of life that was mostly a lie and barely more than existence, but if I can use this day to wheedle permission out of you to try and reach for the stars … then I’ll use it. Look … I’ve got all the ingredients for the recipe. I need an ounce of faith … I’ve got an ocean. I need an ounce of magic … being home with the two of you on my birthday gives me that and then some … so … all I need now is your permission to try.”