Going on 13 ... Again

Yesterday was TH's birthday.
He hates his birthday.
So much so that he snaps at anyone who mentions it.
Conversely,
he's miserable if you don't.

Don't ask.
Just ignore him.
I do.

I got home from work yesterday,
prepared to ignore the event.

"What do you want for dinner?"
I ask.

He mutters something about
just making soup.

"Fine," I snap,
and storm off to the kitchen to make soup
and tuna sandwiches.

We eat and when we're done he says,
"There's dessert downstairs."

I look at him.
"Downstairs?"

He nods.
"Ice cream cake in the freezer."

"Your staff bought you cake for your birthday?"

He nods.

"Did you yell at them?"
I ask this because if I had bought the cake,
I would have received a lecture.

"No," he says, "it was hard to be rude
when it was such a nice gesture."

"Yes it was," I snap.

"Yeah, well..." He stops
and I can tell he's trying to suppress a smile.

"What?"

He starts to laugh.

"They wrote on it
Happy Bar Mitzvah TH"

"Mazel tov," I said,
once I stopped laughing.