Bubsie the Birthday Boy
Three-year olds can be fascinated by TV commercials. Enough so, that they can start new family traditions.
Case in point: chubby, dark-eyed toddler looks up from his matchbox cars to take in a splashy Red Lobster ad. Fire-engine red crustaceans are tumbling out of crates, morphing into moist white meat poised over tiny cups of frothy butter. (This kid liked to dip food into anything.) Happy waiters present over-sized platters of stuff that looks like giant insects to a family that wears bibs. What's really going on here? Is this food? Can I have some?
Thus, a three-year old gets to celebrate his birthday at Red Lobster with Dad. No, Mom didn't join them. Alas, pinchy live lobsters are not as scary as a one-year old sister who tends to be crabby at dinner-time. We choose to shield the general public from this fact. This experimental jaunt quickly became tradition. As any mom worth her seafood knows: "We always go to Red Lobster on my birthday" will be the motto after one visit.
Today, Bubsie is 15. This is thirteen years of seafood platter supreme, topped off with pumpkin-cheesecake at home. (Not quite a seasonal dessert in June, but the boy gets what the boy wants. So, he is coddled a bit.) Today, we will join the guys in Watertown (Friend #12 and Grandma Janet, too) to celebrate the boy we are all wild about.
Happy Birthday, Bubs.
Case in point: chubby, dark-eyed toddler looks up from his matchbox cars to take in a splashy Red Lobster ad. Fire-engine red crustaceans are tumbling out of crates, morphing into moist white meat poised over tiny cups of frothy butter. (This kid liked to dip food into anything.) Happy waiters present over-sized platters of stuff that looks like giant insects to a family that wears bibs. What's really going on here? Is this food? Can I have some?
Thus, a three-year old gets to celebrate his birthday at Red Lobster with Dad. No, Mom didn't join them. Alas, pinchy live lobsters are not as scary as a one-year old sister who tends to be crabby at dinner-time. We choose to shield the general public from this fact. This experimental jaunt quickly became tradition. As any mom worth her seafood knows: "We always go to Red Lobster on my birthday" will be the motto after one visit.
Today, Bubsie is 15. This is thirteen years of seafood platter supreme, topped off with pumpkin-cheesecake at home. (Not quite a seasonal dessert in June, but the boy gets what the boy wants. So, he is coddled a bit.) Today, we will join the guys in Watertown (Friend #12 and Grandma Janet, too) to celebrate the boy we are all wild about.
Happy Birthday, Bubs.
posted by thisrequiresthought at 9:14 AM
1 Comments:
I've always called Gabriel "Bud." Now I find myself calling Jackson, "Bubs." (I can't call them the same thing, after all.) The other day I actually realized what I was saying, and then wondered if he'll hate me someday if this sticks.
But seeing how much your boy loves you, I guess I can put those concerns to rest.
Happy Birthday to your Bubs. :)
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