Burying Birthdays

The Resident Fan Boy's birthday is tomorrow. This is most inconvenient. It always is. Having a birthday in early September is almost as bad as having a birthday near Christmas. In most parts of Canada, school begins the Tuesday after Labour Day, so nearly every year the RFB's celebrations get eclipsed, and in some cases, damn near forgotten in the insanity of the beginning of the school year.

Take the year that elder daughter seemed to disappear one evening. She had arranged to meet the RFB at the Rideau Centre to purchase those delightful last-minute school supplies that teachers decide are necessary after the June purchase lists have been circulated. ("Oh yes, and this year you'll also be needing...") The Resident Fan Boy thought they were meeting at the stationer's; elder daughter had set up camp in a book store. In the panic that ensued when the RFB came home asking where elder daughter was and I didn't know, all else got blotted out. It wasn't until the next morning, when the RFB paused at the door before heading out to work, looking expectant, bewildered and slightly hurt, that I remembered. That had been a landmark birthday too, one of the ones ending in a zero. Elder daughter, of course, uses this incident in her continuing campaign to get a cell phone. We say, fine, if she can figure out where she's going to get the money to pay the fees...

This year shouldn't have been a problem because the Ottawa-Carlton school board, in its wisdom, decided to open the schools September 1st, the Tuesday before Labour Day. However, younger daughter is starting at an independent school this year which is opening tomorrow. We decided to side-step the issue and celebrate the Resident Fan Boy's birthday today, but all this means is that in addition to doing extra cooking, I'm labeling gym clothes, looking up bus schedules, and wondering what to pack for younger daughter's lunch. Oh well. We gave him a deluxe lawn chair, complete with canopy and cup-holder, and he's been happily reading the paper on the deck this beautiful temperate morning. We're taking him out to dinner, and once I've posted this to NaBloPoMo, I'm banishing myself to the kitchen to prepare a steak-and-kidney pie from scratch, something I've been attempting to do since Friday.

The Resident Fan Boy got his best present of all yesterday morning when younger daughter managed to thrust her PDD-NOS taciturnity aside and announce during church service that it was her daddy's birthday on Tuesday. This was a first for her and entirely without prompting. Whoever was carrying the microphone mischievously asked her how old RFB was. Younger daughter turned to her father and said in a stage whisper: "How old are you?" When they told me about it upon arriving home, I congratulated her. With a huge smile, she said: "Initiative, initiative, initiative!"

Gee, kid, keep this up and this may actually be a very good school year! Oh yeah, and many happy returns, birthday boy. (Not that you'll ever read this.)