Anything for Cake

Anything for Cake

“Don’t be late,” My mother said, leaving the room.

Dad was there finishing his lunch. “Going out?” he asked.

“Yeah, meeting Jinny.”

“Don’t forget you’re watching the little kids tonight. We need you back like, five?”

“Five? What restaurant are you going to?”

“Ah… I forget. Mom wanted to go try it. Apparently, her friends go there regularly, but it’s in Framingham somewhere.”

“Well, Framingham… you’ll still get there early even if it’s on the furthest edge.”

“Yeah, but she’s heard it’s really popular. You have to get there early to get a table.”

“Why not call and reserve one?”

“Ah, I think she said they don’t take reservations…”

Dad was stumbling. I’d known this man since I was born, he’s was a terrible liar. My brain started guessing. What would they need me home for if they weren’t going out to dinner, why the subterfuge? Knowing I’d hurt him if I got him to talk, I went back to Mom.

“OK,” I started, making her jump. “What’s up?”

“What are you talking about?” she said, in the worst acting I’d seen in years.

“I know, from talking to Dad, that you’re not going out to eat.”

“What did you father say?”

“Spill it Mom! If it’s not watching the kids, then it’s about me. Tell me!”

“Well, you never let us throw a party for your birthday…”

“My birthday is two months away!”

“Exactly, so you’ll be surprised right? Don’t ruin this for you father! He wants so much to do this!”

The look on her face told me it was true. What else could I do?

So that’s why you have two birthdays every year? That’s funny Grammie!!”

“And fun!” I answered, as we cut the cake. You can basically tell an eight-year-old anything and they’ll believe it.