The only thing that my mother wanted for her birthday, last week, was to hear from her youngest grandchild. Because my wife and I had to attend a small fundraiser for a friend’s non-profit dance company and dance school that evening, Marcel and I called my mom first thing in the morning in order to provide the desired gift.
While that timing protected my mother from the torture of waiting, it didn’t allow me the opportunity to fully prep Marcel for her role.
Fortunately, though, Marcel has been around the birthday block a couple of times, now. She has been to birthday parties, handed over birthday presents, played birthday games and eaten birthday pizzas, sodas and cake. Thus, I felt she was capable of pulling a little something together. With that in mind, we gave mom a call at about 8:30 am.
“Hello,” my mother answered the phone cheerily.
“Happy Birthday, Mom!,” I responded. Then, I prodded Marcel.
Eagerly and excitedly, Marcel did the best she could.
“Happy Cakes!“
