I laughed as I bought the numbers. As you know, I am already thirty and I didn't even get a cake with the number thirty on it, so it was sort of fun to do. It felt good, in a bad way. She didn't want to be reminded that she is now thirty.
"Wow! She is turning thirty?!" yelped Eraser Eater, "You look younger than thirty and you are thirty-four!"
My head almost spun off.
"Oh yeah, that's right. Dad is thirty-four. Sorry, Mom."
Heaven help me when I turn thirty-four.
No, heaven help you when I turn thirty-four. That's more like it.
Or heaven help the Professor. Gee whiz.
Last night upon getting under the covers he felt my arm. "Goose flesh," he said.
"Don't say that."
"What? Why?" he chuckled.
"It is one of my words I can't stand."
"It's British, it's cool, so be prepared to hear that the rest of your life."
I shoved him.