Tuesday, 12 April 2011

The alternative birthday

Last week was my birthday. Funnily enough, it was the same date as it has been for the last *cough* twenty-seven years, but nonetheless OH managed to fail spectacularly to get me a present. Of any sort.*

I got a card. That. Was. It.

The cherubs, who seemed to realise that their father was on a slippery slope into the dog house, resorted to wrapping (in outdated company letterhead paper) some of their own things and presenting them to me:

What I have always wanted! A cheetah bookmark and a
dinosaur kaleidoscope. Perfect work accessories.

They make a great double act when upright

Down, cheetah, down! The kaleidoscope is not
a substitute sex toy!

And they sang 'Happy Birthday' to me. Complete with holding hands, looking like angels and swinging arms in time to the slightly off-key melody. Very endearing. I do believe I brushed a tear away.

Anyway, on to the office. Work waits for noone, far less someone who only has 'an extra year' to add to their CV. Nevertheless it was, all in all, a lovely day, as demonstrated by this tweet:

Which got me thinking. Maybe OH was going to surprise me when I returned home?

Hmmm. Nup.

Cue some horrified reactions by fellow bloggers near and far.

And walk out I did. Not only did I then proceed to find some items for the cherubs (summer uniforms for school, new sports socks, and trousers that are not two inches above the ankle like current ones), but I also located the perfect 'gift' for OH:

No further words needed
I have not had to use the bell once.


* He did redeem himself, albeit some four days later. I would advise other male readers not to follow suit. It is bad for your health and may be accompanied by the phrase "I have a headache" for some time.


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