You’re My Cuppycake

Beauty in the day: he came into the office, a teddy-bear of a fourth grader, with a sweet and innocent demeanor. “Excuse me, but I need to call my dad.”
“Do you need to call him because it’s your birthday?” I asked, being the recipient of secret intel somewhat earlier via the dad that he wanted to call.
“Yes!” he exclaimed with a look of wonderment at my clearly cultic knowledge.
“Is it because you want to find out about cupcakes?”
“Yes! Yes, I want him to bring some cupcakes!”
“Well, Friend, guess what? You mom is going to bring CAKE, and she will bring plates and forks, too.”
He looked at me like I was a baby kitten, and then enveloped me in a big but tender hug. “Thank you for telling me about that!” he said, almost reverently.
Happy Birthday, kid. ❤