When A Couple Extra Weeks Adds Up To A Whole Extra Year

To tell the truth, Friends, I just wasn't ready.

Well, Friends, today's August Twenty-Seventh, and my whole life so far, August Twenty-Seventh can't pass without Mommy reminding me that TODAY was SUPPOSED to be my birthday, but I decided to wait around for another coupla weeks.

Good grief, she oughtta set it to music and play it on the radio.

Now, I read the baby brochure, too, when I signed on to be a kid.  What's that? ... Yeah.  I had access to all kinds of knowledge before I was born.  ... No, I don't know how, but I distinctly remember having access to it, and using the access to the knowledge.  Stop interrupting me.  I'm in the middle of a story.

ANYWAY, I remember reading a very specific thing warning mommies not to get too attached to a due-date, because it's very rare that babies come along on the very day they're supposed to.  Apparently Mommy read that and thought 'well, MY baby will be on-time,' and if you know Mommy, you know how ridiculous that is, because she's rarely on-time for things, so why was she expectating that out of me?

I read that and figured I'd get to take my own sweet time making my way into the world, and then I just focused on the things I needed to do as a pre-baby. 

You mean to tell me I hafta wait a whole extra year for kindergarten?

Being a pre-baby is a LOT of work, Friends, in case you've forgotten since your days as a pre-baby.  It was a long time ago for me, but not all that long ago in the grand scheme of things, so trust me when I tell you, being a pre-baby is exhausting, and pre-babies don't need all that pressure from their mommies, worrying about them getting here on-time.  I mean, babies and pre-babies aren't FedEx packages!

I thought I was being a pretty cool customer, letting August the Twenty-Seventh come and go, and me staying all nice and comfy-cozy right where I was.  Hey, I knew I was coming along in a little while.  I could hear Mommy talking to her doctor.  I knew they were conspiring against me from Day One, so if they thought they were being clever and thinking they were gonna surprise me with making me be born before I was ready, they both got to think again, now, didn't they?

A whole year?!  The humanity!

Well, as it goes, apparently the joke was on me.  What I failed to pick up, knowledge-wise, when I was a pre-baby, was that my school has a thing called a cutoff date, and what this means is that if I woulda been born before September First, I could go to school in the year Twenty-Sixteen.  That sounds like fun!  However, I was born a week and a day after September First, so now I hafta wait a whole extra year, into Twenty-Seventeen, before I can ride the schoolbus and carry a lunch pail and backpack and be mayor of the playground.

The older I get, the more this distresses me.  I mean, I've been through almost two years at home with Mommy already, and I realize I'm not even halfway through my Early Life Sentence.  I still have FOUR MORE YEARS to go!  Aaaaargh!  If I could go back to my pre-baby self, I'd tell me that August the Twenty-Seventh is a FINE birthday to have, and to skedaddle!

The thing of it is, I guess Mommy was pretty upset with me, not arriving on August the Twenty-Seventh, back in Eleven.  I guess it really cramped her style.  But the more I listen to the subtext when she talks, the more I get the impression that she's GLAD I'm stuck here at home with her for the extra year.  The message comes through loud and clear that she LIKES having me around, so I don't have any hope of an early release.

I guess I'll hafta make the best of it now, Friends, because it is what it is.  August the Twenty-Seventh is NOT my birthday.  September the Ninth is, and I'm gonna hafta just grin and bear it for a few more years.

I guess this is why pre-babies aren't allowed to make more decisions for themselves.  I guess this is just why, Friends.