It’s Grumpy’s birthday today.
I’m still struggling to come to terms with the fact he didn’t want a big party. I’m a party kinda person. I don’t get people who don’t want parties.
Also, he “doesn’t want anything” for his birthday. So he’s getting a big, power tool thing he bought for himself a few weeks back and Monkey Boy snaffled and hid. And a carving knife set, a good one, that I was going to buy for him, but didn’t because “I don’t want anything” and I ummed and ahhed anyway and thought he wouldn’t use it, and he found the link in my e-mail inbox and bought it. Technically, I did the ordering and purchasing because he’s a techno-tard, a term courtesy of my 15 year old niece, and it was too hard for him.
Or, technically, too frustrating for me watching him do it, so I took over.
So he got them.
And we’d already done the cake thing, but I still couldn’t let the day go by without cake.
It’s just wrong.
Thankfully, I was prepared. You see, two days ago he said “are you cooking me breakfast this morning”. Followed almost immediately by “show me your tits”.
I kinda figure its one or the others, so confirmed them “yes, I want you to cook me breakfast and show me your tits”. Then he wanted me to make his birthday cake. Ok, technically, I wanted him to have a cake. But, still, it needed doing.
Thus, he was after:
- a cooked breakfast
- an ogle at my boobs
- a birthday cake
He got his cooked breakfast two days ago.
He got this for his birthday cake last night: