Celebrating the Endless Possibilities of a First Birthday

We recently celebrated my granddaughter Scarlett’s first birthday. In keeping with the Chinese tradition of Zhuazhou, she was presented with an array of (child-safe) trinkets from which to choose her future.

Would she grab the gold medal and become an Olympic athlete? Or maybe the film clapper and become her generation’s Greta Gerwig? The truth is, I didn’t care.

What mattered was the gathering of our family, the laughter, and the joy. This little girl, my granddaughter, is already a universe of potential. Whether she’ll grow up to be a scientist, an artist, or a world-changing leader, I know she’ll be extraordinary.

And that, more than any trinket, was the true fortune of the day.

For what it’s worth, she chose the medical bag. Given her love of animals (inherited, I’m sure, from her father, my son, Grant), I think she’s more inclined to become a vet than a human doctor. But that’s ultimately her call.

Of course, Zhuazhou isn’t binding. Scarlett can grow up to become whatever she wants. The beauty of the tradition is that it celebrates the world of possibility that awaits her.

Also, it’s adorable.

The first birthday is a time to look back on a child’s monumental first year — with all its milestones, like her first steps, her first ride in a swing, and her first pair of Stan Smiths — and give some thought to a future of unlimited possibilities.

Scarlett’s birthday is just a few days before mine, so thanks to my son and his wife, my birthday celebrations are now a little brighter. She shares her actual birthday (a few years apart) with my schnauzer, Henry, so late July is a non-stop party in our family.

I confess that — despite hearing from my friends how magical being a grandparent is — becoming a grandmother was never a preoccupation of mine. I figured if my son had a child, marvelous. If not, that’s fine too. And, I would have supported his and his wife’s decision, whichever one they went with.

Having said that, my elated grandparent friends weren’t lying. Having a grandchild is everything it’s cracked up to be.

Scarlett and I get to celebrate our birthdays together — I with more yesterdays than tomorrows, and she with a world of tomorrows laid out before her. We’re like two bookends, my granddaughter and me. It’s tempting to want to fill her to the brim with advice, but I know better.

In the end, Zhuazhou is less about predicting Scarlett’s future, and more about celebrating her present, and embracing the unknown journey ahead.