Celebrating 6-7
Summoning a Generation (and frogs...)
There is a strange cultural phenomenon happening among the youth of today. If you say the numbers six and seven out loud in a room full of children, something electric happens. They light up. They shriek.
They behave as if you have uttered a secret password that unlocks a portal to pure joy.
I do not know who started this or why it spread with the speed of a biblical plague (looking at you, frogs), but here we are. My son Ben is turning seven, which means we are living in the sacred overlap between six and seven, the mystical zone known to the children as six-seven. Apparently, this is a big deal.
Planning a seventh birthday in the age of six-seven is a bit like planning a coronation. There is a sense that something ancient and powerful is at work, even though the entire tradition is probably three months old and invented by a kid on a school bus. Still, I find myself wanting to honor it. If the children have decided that six-seven is the numerical equivalent of a Taylor Swift surprise song, who am I to resist?
It is funny to think about how birthdays became a thing in the first place.
The earliest birthday celebrations were not about cake or candles. They were about survival. If you made it another year without being taken out by disease, famine, or a poorly timed encounter with a wild animal (again - frogs!), people threw a party.
The ancient Egyptians celebrated the birthdays of their pharaohs because they believed that was the day the pharaoh became divine.
The Greeks added the idea of putting candles on cakes because they believed the smoke carried prayers to the gods.
The Romans took birthdays and made them loud, chaotic, and slightly questionable, which feels accurate for any modern children’s party. Perhaps they engaged less inflatables…
Somewhere along the way, birthdays shifted from survival rituals to Pinterest boards.
As a millennial parent, I feel this shift in my bones. I grew up in the era of sheet cakes from the grocery store and party favors that were essentially a plastic whistle and a sticker. Now I find myself scrolling through themed balloon arches and wondering if I should learn how to sculpt a dinosaur out of fruit. Millennials are the generation that survived dial up internet, participation trophies, and the rise of energy drinks, yet nothing has prepared us for the pressure of planning a child’s birthday in the age of Instagram.
Ben, of course, does not care about any of this. He cares about the magic of turning seven. He cares about the fact that he is leaving six behind, which feels enormous to him.
Six was the year he learned to read more confidently.
Six was the year he discovered that Roblox can consume entire DAYS.
Six was the year he started asking questions that made me pause and think about how much he is growing.
Now he is stepping into seven, which feels like a new chapter, even though it is only one number higher.
There is something tender about watching your child cross that invisible line between ages. They do not see it as a small shift. They see it as a transformation. They wake up on their birthday and believe they are different. Taller. Braver. More capable. More themselves. I remember feeling that way too.
As a kid, birthdays felt like leveling up in a video game. As an adult, birthdays feel more like a reminder that time is moving whether I am ready or not.
Maybe that is why I find myself wanting to celebrate this transition from six to seven with intention. Not with perfection or Pinterest pressure, but with presence. I want Ben to feel seen. I want him to feel the joy of being exactly who he is at this moment in his life. I want him to know that growing up is something worth celebrating, not because of the party or the gifts, but because each year brings new pieces of who he is becoming.
The truth is that celebrations matter. Not because they are elaborate or impressive, but because they mark the moments that would otherwise slip by unnoticed. Birthdays remind us that life is not just a long stretch of ordinary days. It is a collection of milestones, small and large, that deserve to be honored. They remind us to pause. They remind us to look at the people we love and say, I am glad you are here (and admittedly, that frogs are not).
So as we prepare for Ben’s seventh birthday, I am choosing to celebrate the transition from six to seven with gratitude. Gratitude for the boy he is. Gratitude for the boy he is becoming. Gratitude for the strange and hilarious tradition of six-seven that has somehow become a cultural treasure among children. Gratitude for the chance to mark another year of his life with joy.
If you find yourself planning a celebration of any kind, whether it is a birthday or a quiet moment of personal growth, my advice is simple.
Celebrate it.
Celebrate it even if it is messy. Celebrate it even if it is small. Celebrate it because life is full of moments that deserve to be named and noticed. Celebrate it because you are here, and that is worth honoring.
And if you want to whisper six-seven while you do it, I will (try to) not judge. The children would approve. Who am I to resist?