Tuesday, August 9, 2011


The Utoid has a blind spot when it comes to remembering birthdays.  Some people forget names; others forget faces.  He forgets birthdays.  A detail that I hope to correct, at least for one (mine).  So I've begun a pop-quizzing routine, checking that he remembers mine.  Every few days, I'll ask.  He's getting better about it, but I can't tell if he's teasing me by guessing or he if really doesn't remember at times.

The last conversation about birthdays happened just over a week ago, with me dropping heavy hints about what I'd like on my day.  A few days later, a card from the Utoid shows up in the mail.  Not just any card.  A birthday card.  It's a joke card, too, with Donald Duck on the front, ranting about how people receive no respect on their birthdays: trick candles, gag gifts, etc.  When I try to open the card, I find that it's glued shut.  Turning it over, I see "cards that don't open."  Underneath, the Utoid had written "And cards that are really early!"  I laugh, since this is him joking with me about not remembering my birthday.

We start talking, and I let him know that I liked the card.  He's satisfied that I appreciate it.  A bit later in the conversation, I tell him that I like him, even if he does send me birthday cards over a month in advance.  Then it becomes apparent that he didn't mean to!  He had made a note to send me a birthday card before the 10th, but in his rush to get other things done, it slipped his mind that it was the 10th of September, not the 10th of August.

Silly boy.

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