I heard him chattering in his room.
At 630 in the morning.
Ugh. Too early. I rubbed my eyes and wished I were a morning person. Still, it was Tommy’s birthday. So I tossed the covers off of me—ahhh, cold—and padded over to the closet to grab some clothes.
“And today I’m 9 and it’s going to be a fun day,” I heard Tommy say.
He talks to himself.
He gets that from me.
Before I walked out of my room, I put a big smile on my face.
“Happy Birthday, Tommy!” I said cheerfully.
He grinned. He was already dressed, ready for his day. “Thanks! You’re smiling!”
He’s used to seeing me with my eyes half opened, looking as though I were suffering from a hangover. Again. Not a morning person.
“I’m smiling because it’s your birthday!” I answered, giving him a hug. “Just don’t go getting cranky on me as you get older. Soon you’ll decide you don’t like me anymore and I won’t be able to stand it.”
“Can I open some presents?” Tommy wondered.
“Sure. We’ll get to that. But do you know what I was doing many years ago on this very day?”
Tommy scowled. “Are you going to tell the dynamite story?”
Ahh, he knows me well.
“Yes, as you know, this quote comes from—”
“That girl show,” Tommy finished, sighing.
“Yes, so on this day, many years ago I was giving birth to you. Here comes the Lorelai Gilmore quote that I love so much: ‘And while some have called it the most meaningful experience of your life, to me, it was something more akin to doing the splits on a crate of dynamite.’” I said.
Tommy rolled his eyes. “But I was worth it,” he finished.
I nodded. “You were worth it.”
Tommy scratched his arm, unmoved. “Can I open presents now?”
We went downstairs and Tommy checked out the setup.
He noticed he had a weather book and started to flip through that. He’s really into weather these days.
“Er, Tommy?” I asked after five minutes had gone by. “Did you want to open your presents?”
Tommy glanced up from his book. “Oh. Right!”
Yup, he got a Nintendo DS game that has tornados in it.
After the presents were opened, he went back to his weather book.
Later that night we had Amanda and her family over for dinner (Tommy requested spaghetti) and then it was time for cake (CAKE!) and more presents.
That night, as Tommy was getting into bed I asked if he had a good birthday.
“I did,” Tommy assured me.
“Good.” I gave him a kiss and was about to walk out.
“Mommy?” Tommy said.
“You don’t have to worry about me not liking you when I get older. I’ll always like you. You give me great toys.”
That’s something, I guess.