It’s that time of year again. Yes, it’s my birthday (tomorrow or today or yesterday depending on when you read this). I love my birthday. I can’t help but give everyone I know a countdown. Last year though, I noticed something. Inevitably, someone has a meltdown on my birthday. It’s rarely me. It’s usually some member of my family. It used to be my sister when I was a kid. As I grew older, it would end up being one of my parents. Now that I have nephews, it’s usually one of them. Of course, one or both of my parents like to have a minor blowout just for good measure.
It’s kind of funny, really. I love my family, but I don’t know why they always freak out on my birthday. All I want from them is a “Happy Birthday” and some cake. I hate being the center of attention. OK, yes, I want a present or two, but mostly, I just want cake. Or sex, but I want sex every day and that’s a different post and obviously, I don’t want it from a family member. Gross.
So, I settle for cake. Well, I don’t settle for cake. I am satisfied with cake. I just let myself be happy with only having cake and not sex.
What was I talking about? Meltdowns.
I don’t know why someone always has a meltdown. It’s just something that happens like the sun rising or a bird singing.