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Pippi sighed and laid her head against Sam’s shoulder. “I have to tell you somethin’.” She fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt as she talked. “But I don't want anyone to make a big deal about it. Okay?”
“We can’t promise you that until we know what the something is, but we can promise that whatever it is, it’s not too much for us to handle,” Sam told her.
Catherine’s mind whirled with what Pippi might come out and say. The longer their girl stayed quiet, the more anxious Cat seemed to get.
“Today is my birthday,” Pippi mumbled so low it was almost inaudible.
The stress and tension immediately left Catherine’s body as she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“I’m officially forty.”
Cat and Sam exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.
Pippi sat up and looked back and forth between the two of them like they had seven heads. “What’s so funny?”
“Sweetie.” Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Why was that such a big deal to tell us? We don’t care how old you are.”
Pippi blinked, still obviously confused. What were they missing? Catherine knelt in front of her.
“Pippi, lovie, why on earth would it be such a production to tell us it’s your birthday? I mean other than now we obviously need to do something to celebrate.”
She nibbled her lip and squirmed off Sam’s lap. Mumbling to herself, she paced the office. Cat took a seat next to her husband and they watched their girl work out whatever she was trying to figure out in her head.
“Didn’t I tell you that everything that happened”—she waved her hands haphazardly—“back then was all because of my birthday?”
Catherine prided herself on her memory and she couldn’t for the life of her remember anything about a birthday. However, she didn’t want to upset Pippi, so she crafted her response carefully.
“If you did, little one, then I honestly don’t remember.”
Pippi scrubbed her hands over her face. “Maybe I left that part out when I told you my story. I haven’t celebrated my birthday for twenty years, but now I’m supposed to be putting all of that behind me. What do I do?”
“First off, I need you to take some deep breaths with me. You’re getting worked up and Daddy is worried you’re going to give yourself a panic attack. Breathe with me.”
Sam modeled some breathing exercises and Pippi mimicked them.
“Good girl,” he praised. “Now, listen carefully. We are helping you move past your trauma, but it doesn’t all have to happen in one day. It’s going to take some time for you to fully embrace these new lessons, and that’s okay.”
“But… my birthday only comes one time a year. Does that mean I have to wait a whole year to get past this one thing?”
Catherine piped in, “You’re putting unnecessary rules on things, little one. We can celebrate your birthday whenever you want to.”
That information looked as if it slapped the poor girl in the face. Her shock and almost outrage made Catherine smile.
“I… never thought of it that way.”
“Well, now you have,” Cat told her. “And if you want to celebrate, we will and if you don’t, we won’t.”
Pippi crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s that easy?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” She went back to the couch and fell heavily onto the cushions. “Owie.” She yelped and rolled to her side.
“Bottom sore?” Sam asked.
“Yes, Daddy.” Pippi sighed.
“Good.” He reached over and gave it a pinch. “Let it be a reminder that you’re stuck with us, and Prank Day or no Prank Day, we aren’t going to let anything scare us away.”
