I was filling out a form today and asked Gideon if he knew when his birthday was, and he proudly told me he did and it was in just a few months and he would be turning five years old. But then he stared into space for a few moments and frowned.

“What’s wrong, little guy?” I asked.

He shook his head and mumbled sadly, “But me don’t want to turn five. Because then my voice will change. I don’t want my voice to change.”

I explained later that this is not actually how things work. That you don’t wake up on the morning of your birthday and realize that you suddenly sound like The Swedish Chef or something. But then I hesitated because I was stuck thinking about how amazing and terrifying the world would be if you actually woke up on your birthday sounding like The Swedish Chef. What if you walked down the stairs in the morning and kissed your wife and she started talking to you with a French accent and that was your first indication that you had forgotten her birthday? Or you wake up one year and say hi to your kids and they fall out of their chairs in terror as you realize that you are going to be cursed for the next 12 months with the voice of Gilbert Gottfried. “Kids! Stop laughing and pick up your rooms!” Can you blame the poor little boy for being sad believing this was the world into which he was born?