Читать книгу Birthday Boy - David Baddiel - Страница 15

As Sam tucked into his third birthday breakfast in three mornings, and saw his mum and dad smiling at him (although the smiles were rather tired – it had been a long party the day before, and his parents must have been up late wrapping all his new presents, because there was a whole new batch sitting in front of Sam on the bedclothes, all tied up with coloured ribbon), he wondered how far, basically, he could push this.

“So …” he said, washing down a delicious bit of doughnut and bacon with a gulp of lemonade, “I don’t think I fancy going to school today.”

“Oh!” said Sam’s mum. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said. “After all, it is my birthday.”

His parents glanced at each other.

“Um …” said Charlie. “Of course it is.”

“Every day is your birthday,” said Vicky. Sam looked up at her as she said this, to see if there was a hint of any undertone in her expression – sarcasm, or jokiness, or just uncertainty – but there wasn’t.

“You do normally go to school on your birthday …” Charlie continued, “if it’s a school day.”

“I know …” said Sam, “but – thanks, Mum! Thanks, Dad!” He’d unwrapped the first of today’s presents – a big electric toy car with remote control – “… I don’t think it’s fair.”

“What?” said Vicky.

“To have to go to school on my birthday.”

“Actually, I went to school on my birthday this year,” said Ruby, coming into the room. “My one birthday.”

Sam nodded. He’d noticed that whatever magic was making everyone – including Ruby – accept that his birthday was happening every day, it hadn’t stopped his sister from being quite annoyed about it.

“OK,” said Sam. “But did that feel fair?”

“… No,” said Ruby, after the tiniest second of thought.

“And also,” said Sam, “if I’m going to be having my birthday every day, I should be able to mix it up a bit. Otherwise most days are going to be the same.”

His parents looked at each other.

Vicky shrugged. “Well, I suppose I could call the school and ask if they’ll let you have the day off.”

“Is that … legal?” said Charlie.

“Not without permission from the head teacher, actually,” said Ruby. She was, as I say, quite advanced for a seven-year-old.

“OK. But I think Mr Fawcett” – that was the head teacher – “won’t mind if I tell him it’s just for this one … special … day.”

At that point Sam’s parents looked at each other again. They were both thinking the same thing: Oh. It’s not just this one special day. It’s every day. This could get complicated. “Great!” said Sam. “And then you’d better call work, and ask them if they’ll let you have the day off …”

“This could get complicated,” said Sam’s dad.

But this birthday, at least, wasn’t that complicated.

First a theme park, then Five Guys for lunch, then go-karting in the afternoon, then the new Pixar movie, then Byron for dinner (Sam liked burgers). It was a great day. There was a slightly difficult moment when Vicky and Charlie had a row about paying the bill at Byron, where they’d had to have a cake, as well, of course, but by the time they got home it was all forgotten.