The next day was Saturday, a perfect day for a birthday party. I know, I know. My actual birthday wasn’t until Sunday, but as I told myself when I woke up, I am an independent party planner, party giver, and partygoer, and I can throw myself a party any old day I want. Besides, all the party supplies were sitting on the table next to my bed, staring me in the face, and I just couldn’t wait anymore.
Oh, yeah. Also I had nothing to do that day.
So I got up and went to my drawer and took out the brand-new grey hooded Mets sweatshirt Papa Pete had bought me that I had been saving for the most special occasion I could think of. And to tell you the truth, I couldn’t think of a more special one than today. I put that sucker on, and party time shot through my body. I had a bounce in my step as I headed to the kitchen for breakfast that you would swear made me look like the happiest guy in the world. I had to remind myself the entire way from my room to the kitchen not to eat too much for breakfast, so I had room for what was coming.
“Hi, honey,” my mom said when I walked through the kitchen door. She was sitting at the table sipping elderberry tea and reading a book. “Don’t you look nice today. What’s the occasion?”
“Well, I have a few special plans for today,” I said, pouring myself a glass of orange juice.
“That’s nice. What do you think of the name Ralph? And there was another one…where is it now…ah, Digman…would that be too unusual?”
There that baby was again, splashing around in my glass of orange juice. Suddenly, I didn’t want it anymore. In fact, I didn’t even want to be at the breakfast table anymore. I had completely lost my appetite.
“I’ll see you later, Mom,” I said.
“But you didn’t eat anything.”
“I’m saving my appetite for Harvey’s,” I said. “I’m planning on going there for lunch, if that’s okay.”
That got her attention. She put down the baby-name book and looked up.
“Who are you going with?” she asked.
“Rosa.”
“You and the spider are going for pizza?”
“Yup. It’s kind of a birthday celebration, since no one else seems to be doing much planning around here.”
My mom got up, came over, and gave me a hug. “Hank, I told you. We’ve planned a very nice family dinner tomorrow for your birthday.”
“I know, Mom. But Rosa planned this event, and you know how tarantulas are. Once they get something in their mind, they just can’t be talked out of it. Don’t worry, I’ll be back by two.”
“Take my cell phone and call me when you get there,” she said. “And no crossing over Broadway. And no talking to strangers. And keep your wallet in your front pocket. And don’t forget your house key. And…”
“Mom, I’m just going down the block. Not to Antarctica.”
“Right, honey. Just remember to push the number-two key, which is the speed dial for home. I’ll be here all morning.”
Yeah, picking baby names.
I got up to leave.
“Oh, by the way, Mom. About Digman. It sucks.”