I’m going to make his favorite dessert, banana pudding, but he still refuses to name a favorite entrée. He’d rather I make what I like or what the rest of the family will enjoy. Oh no. What if he’s been lying about banana pudding all along and it’s not his favorite, and he only says it is because he knows I like it? That would be just like him. I insisted on buying party decorations and party hats, even though I’m positive he’d rather us not make a fuss. But he’s turning 70, and I want to make a big deal of it.
That reminds me: What should his gift be? He’s difficult to shop for. He doesn’t care about clothes and accessories, and he definitely doesn’t need any new tools or household gadgets. Maybe I’ll pick up a gift card so he can rent old movies on Amazon Prime. It doesn’t feel very personal, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Or maybe we could gift him a new kite to take to the beach next year. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.
I need to remember to take photos, too. We have so few together. We can use the tripod to get some of the whole family, and I’ll mail them some prints afterwards. I also need to make a playlist so we have some music. Maybe the theme could be songs from the year he was born? Ahh, there’s already a Spotify playlist called “Hits of 1952.” Perfect.
The party is on Saturday, his actual birthday. I wonder if he’d meet me for lunch on Friday? At K&W, of course. It’s not very convenient for either of us to meet there anymore, but I think we both appreciate the nostalgia—and I certainly appreciate the mashed potatoes. Let me stop worrying about all of these details for just a minute and call him right now to see if he’s free.
