My birthday is coming up in a few short days (well, ten, but I know they’ll fly by) and I LOVE my birthday. I love it for a ton of reasons, but I almost love the days leading up to it more than the actual day.
Barry and I have had a long-standing tradition of not exchanging gifts, but planning a trip to take the birthday person on. We’ve had the most wonderful times and also some doozies on these birthday getaways, but best of all we’re together.
I’m no good at keeping secrets and am usually about to explode by the time Barry’s birthday rolls around. I just get so excited that we’re about to go somewhere new. Barry, on the other hand, is cool, calm and totally collected when it comes to my birthday excursion. It drives me nuts.
I’ve been working on him a bit this past week and he hasn’t dropped a single hint. Yesterday I casually shared with him my worry about Maggie crawling up the stairs ‘over my birthday weekend’ and a couple days before that I asked him what time we needed to catch the ferry when we left to ‘celebrate my birthday.’ I got a good laugh from him out of both my comments, but not a peep.
I then wondered aloud if he had anything planned and he smirked and asked when the last birthday I’ve had that he didn’t have something in the works well before I started searching for hints. So, yeah, that guy has got something up his sleeve and I’m chomping at the bit to find out what it is, even if that means I’ll be a year older.
