The week flew by. I always looked forward to the weekends because with Layla and Maggie and me in full-on householding mode it was never a dull moment. And even though it was great to have so much help from Mama’s family during the week, it was even better to have the weekends to ourselves.
I was sitting at the breakfast table enjoying my breakfast, noticing how unusually quiet it was, when Maggie, carrying Layla as she walked into the kitchen, said, “You remember what tonight is, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“No, what is it, the full moon?” I quipped.
“No, silly, it’s Mama’s birthday party!”
The dream and that disturbing moment with Mama at the flower shop seemed like a distant memory, but with Maggie’s announcement it all came flooding back. “I suppose we have to go,” I said, feeling reluctant to even be a part of such a spectacle that would likely be the result of 300 people at Mama’s birthday party.
“Oh, don’t be such a frump! And yes, we have to go. Mama’s told her entire family we’re bringing Layla,” Maggie said in almost a scolding tone.