Denise

Nov. 18, 1998

The Birthday Boy

"Oh, come on. Let's go wake the kid up," the excitement the father had radiated from him. He just knew that his tossing and turning for the past two hours had disturbed his wife's sleep.

She never said anything to him, until he woke her up a half-hour before the alarm clock was to go off. "Paul, let the boy sleep. He does have school today. Oh, and by the way, if you are going to continue wiggling in the bed, you can put that energy to good use." Annie Blaisdell commented as she rolled over to face her husband, her hands gently touching the hair on his chest.

Paul's mind left the reason he was awake so early behind as he felt her soft touch. "And what did you have in mind?"

With a grin, she answered, "Breakfast. Why don't you make breakfast this morning. The kids would love it."

He couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to smooth away the stray hairs that covered her face. "I was hoping for something else, but I guess that would be nice. OK, I'll be in the kitchen, call me when I can wake him up." Paul rolled off the bed, reaching for the robe that was draped over the foot of the bed. He pulled it on, wrapping its warmness around him, remembering the gift from his three children only a month before. Taking his cue, Paul went and got the two girls up, motioning for them to be quiet as they and his wife walked into Peter's room.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" They shouted in unison, then Kelly, the youngest Blaisdell child, ran and jumped on the bed with her older sister not far behind.

Peter came alive as he was bombarded with the girls tickles and screeches. He had heard them in the hallway and remembered how he had woke his foster father up on his birthday. Paybacks were hell.

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