Little Dog came bounding upstairs, pantless wearing only a t-shirt and a birthday hat. He immediately ran to his hiding place behind Mr. Dog's chair. Assuming he's running from being changed into pajamas or some other similarly hideous fate, I turned to ask him what he was up to.
"Little Dog, what are you hiding from?"
"So what are you doing back there?"
"Where's my birthday cake?" he demands as a response.
"It's my birthday! Where's my birthday cake? Can't you see I'm wearing a birthday hat?"
"It isn't your birthday, Little Dog."
"Yes it is. I've got a birthday hat. Now I want my birthday cake!" he insisted.
Not quite sure how to respond, I just smiled.
"Now!" he said in his best task-master voice.
Lucky for me the fate he was escaping was a bath and Mr. Dog's loud voice called the self proclaimed birthday boy down stairs.
"Cake!" he shouted at me as the pantless party-demander sprinted off.
As you may expect there was no cake, so it follows that the first thing he asked for this morning after getting out of bed was the party hat.
"It's my birthday!" he started again. "Where's my birthday cake?"
I'm just left wondering how long this is going to go on.
Pasta ala Fridge
1 year ago