Birthday Party Planning

KC woke up this morning with only one thing on her mind. The must be there if you've anywhere at all to be event of the it's my birthday in less than one week season known as January.

And already I'm cringing, trying to take in the number of names she's been throwing in my direction while tossing back more reasonable numbers of my own.

"Ten," she says.

"One," I counter.

She angles her jaw in the direction of the floor, giving me the look I so often give to her when I'm trying to prove a point and laughs, "I'm not stupid, Mom. I know what you're trying to do."

Feigning ignorance, I shrug my shoulders in a mock, Who me? reply.

"Two then," I say. "That's my final offer."

"I'm thinking six," she bats back at me as her attention steals back to her video game which suddenly seems far too loud to go unchecked.

"Turn that down please?" I ask.

She turns it down without turning it down. Our regular game of let's see if Mom can actually tell the difference.

"Try again," I tell her, pointing the imaginary remote in my hand towards the TV and giving her the click, click single.

"It's not even loud," she says, her voice falling into the petulant whine I'm becoming all to used too these days with a dramatic sigh to top it off. "I can't even hear it now."

"People in New Guinea can hear that!" My exaggeration rewards me with yet another look. One I believe to be the you think you're funny but you need to give it up Mom look.

She mutters beneath her breath, "I bet you don't even know where New Guinea is."

Like my own Mother, I have ears that can hear a whisper three rooms away. A secret talent that I don't always let KC in on but decide to call her on. "It's called Google, Dorkus."

"It's called cheating, Mom!"

"Nope," I quip right back, smiling. "It's called creative thinking." She is silent for a moment.

"Six," she yells out.

"Four," I say. "Four, I will consider."