With nine grandchildren all under the age of 14, It seems like I eat cake and ice cream nearly every month.
“Grandpaaaaa. Guess what day it is?”
I never guess right.
Grandpaaaaa. It’s my birthday!”
Right. And you’ll have another one next year. In fact you’ll have one on the same day of the same month every year until… well, until.
Some of my grandkids have birthdays a week or two apart.
Stop the world! We need to sing happy birthday again! Frost the cake and sign the cards!
“What did we get her?” I ask Grandma, and try to memorize the name of the doll or action figure, so I won’t be caught flat-footed by a daughter-in-law who might relish embarrassing me with the question—before presents are opened.
Blow out the candles; watch the kids lick off 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 13, or 14 candles. Tiny sugar bee-bees roll all over the floor from the table top. Mama slaps the birthday girl’s favorite colorful cake onto paper plates.
Open the gifts; “oh” and “ah,” and suddenly it’s over—until next month. Or is it next week?
I’ll ask Grandma. She’ll know.