is obsessed with birthdays.
A few days ago I was putting away laundry and we had this conversation:
L: Happy Birthday Mom!
Me: It's not my birthday, silly.
L: Sing happy birthday?
Me: You can't sing to me if it's not my birthday.
L: Happy birthday to . . . my rock? (Holding up a little piece of gravel he was playing with.)
And then we all sang "Happy Birthday."
To a rock.