Were you wondering??

What was in the box??

The crystal ducks came from a place Reuben would hab lubbed—long before they eber landed on his birffday table.

They’re from a tiny riverside market tucked between cobblestones, where the air smells like sugar and warm bread and time mobes a little slower. A glassmaker there works at dawn, when the light is soft, shaping molten color into small, shining fings. He says ducks are lucky. They float. They bob back up. They always find their way back to calm water.

Each duck is poured wiff a wish.

The pink one is for gentleness—for soft paws, patient hearts, and the ability to bring peace into a room just by being there.

The gold one is for adbenture—for noses that lean into new places, eyes that notice ebery detail, and a mind that delights in small wonders.

The red one is for joy—for celebration, for birthdays, for moments that sparkle and insist on being remembered.

When they cool, they’re wrapped carefully and sent out into the world, waiting for someone who needs exactly those wishes.

And somehow, wiff all the improbability ob it, they found their way to Reuben. Lined up neatly in front ob him, catching the light, like they knew. Like they’d always known this was where they were meant to be.

Three little ducks. Three qwiet wishes.

And one berry good birthday boy.