Sam frantically searches over and under his bed. “Mommy? Have you seen my cow? I need him.”
I pluck the blue and white stuffed animal from under the night stand and hand him over, grinning as Sam squeezes him tight.
“It’s his birthday today!” he singsongs.
“It is?”
“Uh huh. And now he can say ‘Ma Ma’ and ‘Da Da’, and…” he pauses, thinking. “…And last night he walked.”
“Really?”
“Uh huh. All the way up my bed.” He presses the cow to his ear, listening, then bursts into giggles. “Oh, man,” he says. “He sure is a funny one.”
Yes, he certainly is that. I make my way down the hall to check on the tooth-brushing progress and am waylaid by Tom at the bottom of the stairs. “Mom, tomorrow is Friday. And it’s a school day. But it’s my stuffed animals’ birthday. And Frankenweenie opens. And we have to go to school.” He ends on a somber note with downcast eyes.
It’s all I can do to keep a straight face — what with coming straight from the cow incident and all.
“Oh my goodness, baby! There’s so much really good stuff going on and school is just getting in the way, isn’t it?”
He looks up at me, and a grin breaks through his very deliberate frown. “I wish it was a Saturday is all.”
I squeeze him hard enough his eyes may have bugged out ever so slightly, and think about what a wonderful day this random Thursday is shaping up to be. And wonder how I ever made it without stuffed animal birthdays on my calendar.
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