Gift Giving

Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday, dear meeeeeee. Happy Birthday to me.

That’s the song everyone sang to me today, except they used my name. I just stared at them and wondered what the fuss is about. Hey, I’m just two months old. What’s the biggie?

But I guess it is a biggie, because we had cake a couple of nights ago at Gram and Grampa, and now we celebrated again with just Mommy, Daddy, Grandma and Grandpa.

I’ve heard through the umbilical cord that you’re supposed to get gifts for your birthday. But I’ve got more gifts that I can handle. So, for this birthday, I decided to take a different tact.

Around 8 PM, everything started to go wrong for Mommy and Daddy. The area
underneath the sink was overflowing with water. Daddy absentmindedly used some good pots to clean it out. The trash compactor stopped working. We had a mouse friend who came to visit. Mommy put bleach in the good pot to clean it but learned that there was a leak, so she got bleach on the kitchen countertop. And Daddy and Grandpa wanted to watch the big fight but couldn’t find it on the internet.

So I decided to give Mommy and Daddy the biggest gift possible: I didn’t cry. I didn’t want to be held. I didn’t need to be burped. And I didn’t need to be fed.

I just sat there and watched them do their thing and did my best to keep out of the way.

For everything they’ve given me, it’s the least I could have done.