It is Martin Crieff’s sixth birthday.
He is given to understand, based on a picture book that one of the neighbor children lent him— well, left with him, anyway, after using it to hit him over the head— that birthdays are supposed to be magical. So far nothing magical has happened, but it hasn’t been his birthday for very many hours yet, so maybe there’s hope. After all, on Caitlin’s birthday, she got to ride a pony, and on Simon’s birthday, he got to ride a rollercoaster, and now it’s his birthday, so surely something good will happen. Surely.
He knows what he would pick, if his birthday turned out like in the picture book. In the book, a good wizard shows up on a little boy’s birthday and takes him on an adventure, and there are dinosaurs and giant frogs and a cake as big as a house.
Martin doesn’t want any of those things, though.
All Martin wants in the world is to be an aeroplane, because all Martin really wants is to fly, but even at the young age of six, he recognizes that he is unlikely to sprout wings anytime soon. This is surely for the best; school is difficult enough without the added complication of feathers.
OMG THERE IS FIC FOR THIS NOW.