This past Friday the 13th was a special one — it was my son, Bob’s birthday. Actually he was born on a Friday the 13th under a full moon — he hasn’t turned into a werewolf yet – but he has been stalked by bats (see Bats and Zombies).
I tried all morning to call Bob and wish him a happy birthday — but with no luck. Go figure — a 28-year-old man with better things to do than answer his mother’s phone call on his birthday! What if I was trying to give him $100 — I’ll bet he would have answered my phone call then!
Well, after many attempts the phone was actually answered! I sang a beautiful rendition of Happy Birthday to my baby boy only to be greeted by dead air.
“Bob – are you there? I just wanted to wish you Happy Birthday.”
“I think you have the wrong number.”
“Oh come on Bob — you are only 28 – it will be a good day.”
“This isn’t Bob and you have the wrong number.”
And sure enough – I did! I had switched the numbers around and had been singing to a complete stranger – “Well, happy birthday whenever your birthday is!” – and I hung up the phone.
So – a typical Friday the 13th — my old age begins showing not only by having a 28-year-old son — but also by misdialing his phone number and then singing to a poor befuddled boy! Maybe I was possessed – yeh, that was it — I was possessed! After all — it was Friday the 13th! It could have been a lot worse – I could have walked under a ladder, had a black cat cross my path, been in labor for hours – oops – the last one did really happen – which was why I was in this pickle to begin with!