Natalie and the Downside-Up Birthday (4 page)

Mommy and I leave the cupcake groceries out on the counter. We put the boring groceries away. My heart is so thumpy about making cupcakes that it’s really hard to wait for Granny.

Daddy, Mommy, and I eat fried chicken while we’re waiting. We’re all done when somebody knocks at the door.

“Granny’s here!” I run to the door and open it. And I’m right.

Granny is standing there with her arms full up with bags. “Cupcakes for kindergarten coming right up!” She marches in, shouting, “Cupcakes for kindergarten! Cupcakes for kindergarten!”

I love my granny.

Mom takes Granny’s coat. Daddy gets Granny’s bags. Then we go to the kitchen. On account of Granny says we need to get down to business. That’s what.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” Mom asks.

“You know what they say about too many cooks,
Kelly,” Granny answers.

“Ah. Got it.” Mom leaves, but she’s smiley-faced.

But I don’t get it. “What do they say about too many cooks?”

“Too many cooks spoil the cupcakes,” Granny whispers.

When Granny and I are alone in the kitchen, she starts humming. I know that humming song. We sing that song in our church. So I hum too.

“We are humming cupcake girls,” I tell Granny between hums.

“Humming cupcake girls, who can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” Granny laughs. Then we hum another God song. It goes by the name of “Jesus Loves Me.”

I love that song. And even without the words, our humming sounds like “Jesus Loves Me.”

Granny dumps cake powder from the box into a giant big bowl. She smashes two eggs and plops them into the powdery. Then she pours some oil into a cup and lets me dump that one in.

We take turns stirring. And stirring harder. We don’t even use a stirring machine like Mom uses. On account of we are old-fashioned humming cupcake girls.

Granny looks both ways like she’s crossing a street. Only I think she’s making sure we’re all by ourselves. “Ready for my secret ingredient?” she whispers.

I nod. My heart gets a little thumpy. I love secret ’gredients.

“Chocolate chips,” she whispers.

“Wow!” I whisper back.

Granny points to one of the bags she made Daddy carry to the kitchen. “Bring me the chips, Nat. Your daddy used to love my cupcakes with chocolate chips when he was a boy.”

I look in one bag, but I don’t see the chips. I’m thinking about how many birthdays my dad had when he was a boy. Plus also, how many my granny had. “How old are you, Granny?” I ask.

“A lady never tells her age,” Granny answers.
“But that old whale, Moby Dick, was a tadpole when I was born.”

Sometimes my granny doesn’t make sense.

I peek into the next bag. Only there aren’t any chocolate chips in there. Plus there are two presents in that bag.

“Granny! Are these for me?”

Granny comes over to the presents. “Hmm…well, let’s see. Who’s going to have a birthday tomorrow?”

“Me!”

“Guess these are yours, then.”

“Can I open them now?” I make my eyes big at Granny. Sometimes that works with her. My mom never ever lets me open a present early. But Granny is a maybe. “Please? Please, Granny?”

I can tell by my granny’s eyes that she wants me to open these presents. “Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she says.

“But you won’t be here in the morning when I open my presents,” I remind her. “And you
are
here now.”

“Good point,” Granny admits. She reaches into the bag and pulls out a box.

It might could hold a mouse. Or a hat. Or shoes. Or a hamburger. But not a TV. Or a horse. Or a bike.

“Let’s open one.” Granny whispers this like we are secret present-opening girls.

I pull off the purple bow. I rip off the cat paper. I tear open the box. “Wow!” Inside is a silvery thing, like metal circles sitting on top of each other. It could be a big, fat bracelet.

“It’s so filled with gorgeousness!” I hug my granny. “Thank you, Granny.”

I stare at this silver thing. Then I pull it out of the box. Only it gets bigger when I pull it, like a big, silvery circles snake.

“It’s a Slinky, Nat,” Granny explains.

I like that word,
slinky
.

Granny takes my silvery Slinky out of the box and walks to the basement steps with it. I follow her.

“Watch this,” Granny says. She turns on the light. She sets the Slinky thing on the top step. And she pushes it.

“Granny!” I don’t want my new present pushed into the basement.

“Watch,” Granny says.

I watch. The Slinky plops one silvery circle onto the next step. It looks like a fat worm doing that. Then the other circles slinky down to that step too. Only the top circle plops to the next step. And the whole Slinky slinks over itself and down to the next step. My Slinky slinks down those stairs all by itself.

“Wowee! Wow!” I trot down the steps after my present. It’s standing still, like in the box. I pick it up and climb the stairs back to the kitchen. “I love this Slinky thing, Granny!”

“Better put it back for now, Nat,” Granny says. “This weekend we’ll go to the mall and introduce Mr. Slinky to Miss Escalator.”

Granny and I get back to work on cupcakes. It takes both of us to stir in chocolate chips. We pour the chocolaty stuff into the wavy paper cups that look like upside-down skirts. Then we wait for the oven to cook.

Pretty soon the whole kitchen, plus also, the
whole house, smells like cupcakes. This is one great smell. A birthday smell.

Granny and I make frosting with many secret ’gredients. I lick all the bowls and spoons. Except Granny gets the wood spoon.

A gazillion minutes happen. Then Granny takes the cupcakes out of the oven. “Not bad,” she says.

“They look yummy!” I say. “And chocolaty.”

“And hot,” Granny says.

We have to wait for them to not be hot before we put frosting on. Another gazillion minutes happen.

Finally, Granny ’nounces, “They’re all set.” She gives me a not-sharp knife and a bowl of frosting. “Go to it, Nat.”

I go to it. I dip in the knife and come out with a glob of chocolate frosting. Then I plop it onto the first cupcake. But when I try to spread the frosting, cake globs onto the knife. “Granny, I’m ruining it!” I shout, on account of there’s a big, fat hole in my cupcake.

“Try another one,” Granny says.

I try another one. The same thing happens. Cupcake globs hang on my frosting knife. “I’m a terrible cupcake frostinger, Granny.”

“Nonsense,” Granny says. “You’re doing just fine.”

I try three more cupcakes. Only I tear their
crumbly heads off. “I hate this stupidhead frosting.”

“Keep at it,” Granny says. “Practice makes perfect.”

I keep trying. And I keep messing up. “Granny, practice isn’t making them perfect.”

Granny chuckle-laughs.

But I don’t. On account of this is not funny.

Tomorrow is my school birthday party. And I am in serious cupcake trouble. That’s what.

I wake up before the sun and moon switch places. I can tell this about the sun and moon on account of I have a window in the wall of my bedroom.

“Percy!” I whisper-shout. “It’s my happy birthday!”

Percy doesn’t answer.

Percy never answers very often.

He stays curled up where my feet usually go in my bed. The moon pokes light through my window right onto Percy. He looks like a ball of white fluffy down there.

“Percy?” I say more loud.

He doesn’t answer again.

There are some dark shapes left in my bedroom from the night. They look like bad people. And monsters. Only not.

A night creaky noise happens by my closet.

Part of me feels like it would be a very good idea to pull up my covers over my head so I don’t see the dark.

Or hear the dark.

But the new, six-year-old Natalie 24 in me says to those dark shapes, “Happy birthday to
me
!” And jumps out of bed.

“Come on, Percy 24.” I lift up my cat and carry him all the way to Mom and Dad’s room. Percy and I open the door. We tippytoe in.

There are many snores in Mom and Dad’s bed. Percy and I climb up. We crawl on our hands and knees between Mom and Dad. Then we say, “Happy birthday to me!”

“Wh-what?” Daddy sits up fast. Percy jumps off the bed.

Mom’s eyes pop open. “Nat?”

I wait for them to be waked up more. Then they can say, “Happy birthday!”

“What time is it?” Daddy asks.

“Time for my birthday,” I answer.

Daddy plops his head back on his pillow.

Mommy sits up in bed. “Happy birthday, Nat.”
She yawns and turns their alarm clock to her. “Let’s let Daddy sleep a little longer. Come on. We’ll make a birthday breakfast.”

“With real bacon?” I’m pretty sure Mommy didn’t buy the rubber kind.

“You bet, Nat.”

“Happy birthday,” Daddy says. I think. ’Cause he says it into his pillow.

We have a whole lot of morning before it’s time to go to school. Mom and I make pancakes and bacon. We pack me a special lunch with two cupcakes. One for me and one for my bestest friend, Laurie. Only I also stick in two more. One for Farah and one for Anna.

We pack up our classroom party cupcakes. They are filled with fanciness. Granny covered up all of my frosting mess-ups with pink and purple sprinklies.

Mom packs enough cupcakes so everybody in our class can have two. Even Sasha and even Peter. I can carry the plastic boxes to school myself, just like other birthday kids in our class did before. On account of I am six. That’s what.

Daddy gets up. “Hey! Happy birthday, birthday girl. How come nobody woke me up?”

“We did!” I give him a birthday hug.

Mom goes to her secret hiding place. And she
comes out with presents. For me!

I open the biggest present first. It’s a giant stuffed dinosaur. I hug it. “Steg-O is going to love you!” Steg-O is my little dinosaur.

I hug Mommy and Daddy really hard. “Thank you! It’s what I always wanted. And I didn’t even know that.”

Plus also, I get a toy that has a screen and buttons to push. And noise. It’s really a learning thing. But I like it anyway.

I get two games. I can’t hardly wait to play these games with Laurie. Plus also, clothes. These are not
usually good presents. Only one of those clothes is a purple jogging suit, and I love it. “Can I wear these purple clothes to school?”

“Good idea,” Mom answers.

I’m opening the other present from Granny when the phone rings. And guess who is on that phone? Granny! I know that Different Granny and Gramps will call me too. Only later ’cause they live way far away in California. And time is all mixed up in that place. It’s probably not even my birthday yet there.

“How’s my birthday girl?” Granny asks.

“I love being six, Granny! Plus I have presents. And I’ve been up for a very long time. I’m opening your other present that’s for me.”

“Good timing then, huh?” I think she yawns into the phone.

I open the present and scream, “I love it, Granny! Thank you!” It’s a purple sweatshirt with three big cats on the front. The cats have on cowboy hats and cowboy boots. “They’re cowboy cats!”

“Have you looked on the back yet?” Granny asks.

I turn the shirt to its back. And the backs of those three big cats are on the back of my sweatshirt. “Wow!”

“Glad you like it, Nat.” I think I hear her yawn again. “Best wear that one at home, though. Never
know how a teacher will take to a shirt with cats’ backsides on the back, if you know what I mean.”

“I have our cupcakes ready to go,” I tell her. “They look fancy.”

“Well, you deserve fancy. Have a great time at kindergarten.”

“Yep.” I know I will. It’s Month Number Two and Day Number Four. And I, Natalie 24, get my own kindergarten birthday party.

On account of I am a lucky birthday girl. That’s what.