On Andy’s birthday, we kept things simple and sweet—cupcakes and presents with me and the boys, my mom, and my sister. It was small, but it was full of love.

I had also planned a bigger party for May 3rd, which we moved to May 10th because of the weather. I’d spent a couple of weeks getting everything ready and invited about 12–15 friends, along with Andy’s entire class of around 22 kids. In the end, no one was able to make it.

I won’t pretend that wasn’t disappointing. You put your heart into something for your child, and you hope people show up. But here’s what matters: Andy still had a birthday filled with the people who are consistently there for him. He opened presents from me, my mom, and my sister, and he got a card from Great Aunt Gladys. More importantly, he felt celebrated on his actual birthday—and that’s what will stick with him.

At the end of the day, birthdays aren’t about the size of the crowd. They’re about making sure your child knows they are loved, valued, and worth celebrating. And Andy absolutely knows that.

This is a true account written in my own words during the time it happened. I’ve lightly edited it for clarity in the present day (2026), with minimal exclusions, while keeping the original voice and meaning intact.