Crazy busy week.

One of those weeks when you feel like the days fade into each other and you wonder where the time went. Lots to do and I apparently didn’t major in time management back in college because cramming it all in to one week is SO much better.

Not.

On my To-Do list? Preparing for my oldest son’s 8th birthday this weekend, gift-shopping for my sisters two milestone birthdays, no need to mention numbers, baking cupcakes and catching my youngest sneaking licks of the batter, taking one child to the ear doctor (out came the tubes), then on to the eye doctor, (in go the contacts), and so on and so on.

Still, we managed to fit in a trip to Toys R Us, where my older sis told me to stop by the customer service desk and let them know we are celebrating a birthday. Evidently, they do a little song and dance about your child surviving another year in your care and make him or her the VIP shopper, alerting the other customers via intercom that a birthday kid is in the house.

So off we went, marching up to the counter to try our hand at a little birthday attention, with skepticism lurking around the corner, assuming the employee would either tell me the policy had been suspended or the intercom didn’t survive a budget cut.

Not the case.

Within seconds, a birthday crown fit for a king was plopped onto my son’s head and he was handed a balloon, then asked for his name and age. ‘Griffin…8’, I told the clerk with microphone in hand. And we were on our way.

Just as we turned the corner, we heard the squeak of the intercom turn on through the ceiling speakers, and a female voice enthusiastically asking for the attention of fellow shoppers. ‘We have a birthday boy among us…celebrating his 8th birthday…so when you see him, please wish OWEN a Happy Birthday.’

Owen.

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