Then it was mid-November and time for The Child's birthday

For weeks I asked him what he wanted to do on his birthday.

"Do you want to take a friend or two and go to Jackson? See a movie? Go to the Natural Science Museum? Go bowling? Eat pizza? All of the above?"

He shrugged at each idea. "Nah."

Finally he said he just wanted all his family there. That's what he wanted for his birthday.

His eleventh birthday.

I know that in a few years or tomorrow he'll be a teenager and will refuse to be seen with us. If he wanted to celebrate his birthday with parents, stepparents, grandparents, and cousins, by golly, that is what would happen.

(Several days before he decided that of course he wanted to invite some kids from school. Duh, Mom.)

I got enough out of him to know he wanted something to do with cars on his birthday.

"Muscle cars?" I said. "Classic cars?"

He shook his head. "No, m'am. Exotic cars. Like Lamborghinis and Ferraris."

Of course.

I had to be inventive with decorations. I couldn't waltz into Party City to pick up an exotice car party kit. (I wasn't entirely opposed to doing that. I actually did waltz into Party City and Hobby Lobby and Target and nope. No exotic car party kit to be found.)

It was fun, finding flame-patterned duck tape perfect for edging the tablecloth with (tablecloth in this instant being an inexpensive black sheet).

I liked running one of his toy cars through white paint then racing it over the black twin sheet to make tire tracks.

I enjoyed every bit of it knowing this may be the last time he'll let me decorate for a birthday party.

Kids played and laughed and ran around the back yard. The grownups sat on the deck and sipped coffee.

It was a gorgeous, sunny day, as has been every birthday party day of his since he was born. Happy indeed.