Ricky

Ricky's First Birthday

Bobby bounced Ricky on his lap as his wife prepared the cake.

"It's your birthday, lad. Your first." Somehow, Ricky didn't seem that happy. He was frowning, and his eyes showed a stubborn expression.

"What's the matter, son? Do you need your diaper changed?" Bobby smelled him. No, he didn't. Maybe he was just cranky.

Bobby carried him to the table and put him in his seat. His mother was right about taking care of children. It was hard, but it was just as rewarding. Ricky could crawl, and he was learning to walk. As of right now, he could walk two or three steps before collapsing onto all fours.

"The cake's ready," Linda said as she set it down on the table. "Shall we cut it?"

Bobby nodded and smiled. "Yes." Unlike most families around here, they didn't sing "Happy Birthday" or any other birthday song when their child turned one. Dad had said he wouldn't remember, so it would be best to wait until he was three or four, which would be when he'd start to remember things, since all a baby needed was attention, feeding, and warmth.

Both of them cut the cake together. They both agreed that Bobby would feed Ricky first because he was older. He took a slice of cake out and used a spoon to take out part of it. As he pointed it toward Ricky, his son suddenly became fussy. He began banging his fists on the tray. Bobby took the spoon away from Ricky.

"Here comes the airplane, son." Bobby moved the spoon around in the air as though it was an actual airplane. Suddenly, Ricky became excited. .

Somehow, that always seemed to have worked.