Today is my birthday. I’m now 33. I have no problem with that. I’m pretty comfortable with myself and I really don’t care how old I am as long as I can do what I want to. However, I have noticed that as I get older my birthdays start to resemble a sitcom or French farce more than anything else. Today’s a great example:
Wake up. Stumble to the shower, managing to bruise a shin on a spatula. Why is there a spatula in my bedroom? Oh, well. Get in the shower. Kid manages to get the door open (when did he figure out how to work the knobs?), whips open the shower door, smacks me with the spatula while yelling “En garde! Take that, ha hah! I’m a pirate ship!” Is this what happens when I read him Peter Pan? I manage to convince him that the shower stall (with the shower still on) is not the greatest place for a duel, yell until his dad wakes up and finish my shower in relative peace, meaning that he’s pounding on the door the entire time, yelling something about pirates.
Finally finish getting ready. Kid is eating a muffin while demanding birthday cake and insisting it’s his birthday, too. I beg to differ. Anyway, muffin finally finished, time to brush teeth before we’re off. I turned my back for only a second and, before I know it, the kid’s toothbrush is down his pants. It’s not quite as bad as last time, but still, he’s brushing his penis with his toothbrush. Urgh.
Okay, everyone ready, time to go out the door. Tempers explode. Kid doesn’t want to leave, dad gets annoyed and starts yelling, kid freaks out. I declare a time out for everyone. I finally collect myself, kid collects himself, dad’s still having a hard time holding it in. Son decides he does want to leave, but there’s no way he’s leaving without taking his duvet and all his pillows with him. I manage to convince him to take a small blanket.
Finally I manage to drop my kid off at daycare. I’m on my way to work, smirking at the Wildlife Corridor sign I just drove by, thinking, “Right. And a deer’s just going to jump out in front of me. Har, har.” Deer jumps out in front of me. Dammit! I slam on the breaks, just avoiding the deer, which is actually a stag starting to grow antlers.
At last, at last, I make it to the highway near work when a pack of dogs trots across the highway, which is a rural route, but still… A pack of wild dogs?? Seriously?
Ahh, I’m at work. I’m walking in, rushing and fall flat on my ass in the middle of the parking lot. Oh, good. Now I’m covered in coffee. So I sit there for a minute, laughing hysterically. Someone helps me pick up all my stuff while eyeballing me warily. I walk into work, put my head in my hands and giggle quietly to myself for a few minutes until a co-worker quietly asks if I’m okay. I get control of myself and write this post.
Now I’m getting some coffee.