Why do I get so much attention on my birthday?
I had very little to do with my nascence.
Don’t remember any of it.
I’ve heard stories though.
Apparently, I was uncooperative.
Disrespectful of everyone’s time.
I dawdled.
Evicting me required my dear mother to incorporate painful contractions.
In short, my behavior was childish.
So what’s with the gifts…?
You’re encouraging bad conduct.
I cried, kicked, peed and squirmed.
Refused to even take a breath without being roughed up.
And for that I get…
…CAKE AND ICE CREAM?
The reward is ill placed.
Mom ought to get a party.
She ought to invite 25 of her friends.
They play games.
Drink copious amounts of Kool-Aid.
Open presents!
Great idea!
A party for Mom on my birthday!
Who’s going to make that happen…?
Well,
in our family,
planning parties falls to
Mom.
So…
All I got for her this year is a blog post.
Happy My Birthday Mom!
