Anyone Know the Words to Unhappy Birthday?

I cleaned off the breakfast room table and arranged the chairs so they were evenly spaced. I put away the laundry that had piled up and sat there waiting for someone to walk it upstairs. Wiped down the counter and the stove of the remnants of the morning's breakfast.

He hadn't been asleep as early as I had hoped so my post-bedtime trip to the store for supplies had been delayed and I was tired. But everything seemed to be in order. He would be up in just a few hours. The small but colorful balloons arranged together, their plastic stems cut to differing lengths so they appeared "more". The tall carafe was perfect to hold them in place. Bright green ribbon tied around its neck and curled in large sweeping swirls that puddled on the table. "Happy Birthday" banner hung from the window once and then again to make sure it was centered.

I woke J up early to come downstairs and be ready for when our little newly-turned-six-year-old descended the stairs on his birthday morning. The candles, six of them in white with flecks of multi-colored glitter, were tucked carefully into his waffles and lighted just as I went upstairs to wake my birthday boy.

And that's where everything went wrong....

Wes had it in his mind....the vision of his perfect birthday. He had instructed us to be standing by the table when he came down for breakfast. And we were to be prepared to sing to him. Slowly, not fast. I could tell he wanted to savor his moment of specialness. (Don't we all?)

Problem is, he forgot that in order to get to that point in his plan, mommy needed to wake him up. And so his special day was ruined from the very beginning.

I woke him as gently and cheerfully as I possibly could and still ensure that he woke up. This only made him angry. He seemed to not understand that he no longer has the luxury of sleeping until he wakes up on his own. He's a kindergartener now.

So he kicked me. And yelled at me. And was all around unpleasant.

When he finally came downstairs, it just got worse. He saw the candles flickering on the table and burst into tears. This was not what he had envisioned. He wanted a cake. And a bouncy house. And a party. At 6:30 in the morning.

He didn't understand that we couldn't do any of the specific things he wanted on a Tuesday....a school day. But aside from his lack of understanding, he was also outright unreasonable.

I slipped into the half-bath and cried. I tried so hard. So hard to make this day special, to give him something special. And he kicked me. And yelled at me. And told me it was all wrong.

I quietly got him ready for school. Cleared away his uneaten waffles. Zipped his jacket and took him to school. My day was ruined, too.

I talked to my mom later in the morning and told her what a terrible morning we'd had. She, who loves my child more than anything else in this world, said "I'm sorry your kid is an ungrateful butt. I've been there." She said this while laughing, of course. I quickly apologized for all the times I had been an ungrateful butt.

And then I realized something else. I wonder if God ever wants to slip into the half-bath when His children are ungrateful butts....

How many times has He given me something special....a day, an hour, a gift, a friend....only to have me kick Him and yell and tell Him it wasn't what I wanted? It wasn't what I had envisioned and therefore was ruined and not at all perfect??

I suddenly decided to forgive my child. He is, after all, only six. (And at this point I make myself laugh, envisioning God saying "She is, after all, only thirty-five.")....

Today will become tomorrow and it won't be a birthday anymore. At least not in our house. But we can be grateful for it just the same. And we can celebrate. Because each day that we have here, together, is worth celebrating. Sometimes we forget that.