Camila and Shawn

- August the Eighth Special -

Today is Shawn's birthday! I still can't believe he's 18, like "an eighteen year old singer-songwriter" sounds so much older...
Anyways, I'll explain the epilogue idea.
"8" in Chinese is pronounced "ba". August the eighth is 8/8, "ba ba". "Ba ba" means dad in Chinese (I'm sure it also sounds like "papa", right?), so August the eighth is Father's Day! (I didn't make this up, it's real)
As you may have guessed, this is epilogue is going to be about...

--CAMILA--
August 6th, 2033 -
I took my son to the mall today, for Shawn's birthday present. My big boy (man, as he would like to call himself) is turning 35. "What should we get for dad?"
"I don't know yet, honey. We'll look around and then decide, okay?" I told him. "Okay." He nodded. We kept walking down the mall, looking for anything that catches our eyes. And suddenly, "Ooh mommy look! Daddy might like it!" His little finger pointed to a blue toy police car. "I think that's what you'd like." I nudged him lightly by his arm. "Then what DOES he want?"
"Oh...about that..." I came to a halt and started thinking. Did he tell me what he wants for his birthday? "MOMMY MOMMY I GOT AN IDEA!" The boy shouted. "Stop yelling honey! I told you to be quiet!"

After I finished rambling about how you should use an 'inside voice' when you're indoor, he told me about the idea. "So, we can buy LOADS of flour, eggs and chocolate to make dad 35 muffins!"

In the end, we came home with LOADS of flour, LOADS of eggs, chocolate, milk, cocoa powder, and some sugar. I didn't realize that Shawn came home until he told me, "Mila I'm back!" He chimed through the hallway, and into the kitchen which made me panic. He's gonna find this mess and ask what it's all about! "So, what are you up to- oh."

Shawn saw it. RIP birthday surprise.

"What are you planning to do with those?"

"Umm..." I answered, while trying to think of a convincing lie. "I'm gonna make some cookies because...your son's class is having a party soon and they said to bring cookies!" He nodded, somewhat believing me. "Oh. Ok then. I'm gonna shower." He ran up the stairs to the shower.

The next day Shawn left early to the studio for some writing, and to follow that, that day was a Saturday so it gave us the whole day to work on that muffins. Yes, after all these years he still loves muffins. They are good, you gotta admit.

While the oven was baking the last muffins, my son suddenly came up with a question, "Mommy, where are we going to keep the muffins?"

Shit. The house...doesn't have enough space. "Ooh, I know." I said as I took his hand in mine, the other hand with the ass load of 35 muffins.

We drove to Dinah's house, which only took five minutes since she's the closest. While I was driving, my son INSISTED to listen to the CD I bought him earlier this week.

"Hey Mila! And hello, lil dude." Dinah waved at me when she saw me and boxed the little child beside me. "Hi aunt Dinah!" He waved cheerfully. Dinah face palmed herself, "Gosh, that sounds so old. Come on in!" We stepped into Dinah's house with the muffins in my hands.

"So, why you here?" She asked once she finished making coffee and brought it to me, "Well, you see these?" I gestured to the muffins on the table between us. "Yeah. Are those for me?" She said excitedly. "No, these are for Shawn. But you know, Shawn bought a small fridge when we bought our house and now I don't have enough space for his birthday muffins - these."

"And then?" She asked cluelessly. "Oh my god Dinah! You're so dumb!"
My boy, who was putting on Dinah's hats, smiled and pointed at her, "Dumb Dinah." He immediately started laughing like crazy after that. "Uh-uh, Mila. You're teaching bad language here."