It takes a long time to learn when your parents reach that moment. It lasts only a few seconds. If you start too soon, the human only hears barking, and you get shushed. Start too late, and they are asleep.
Sunday night I was able to speak to my Mom during that perfect moment.
“Mommy,” I whispered, hoping she would hear me.
“Yes, River?” I was in!
“Is tomorrow special?”
“It’s Labor Day.”
“What’s Labor Day?”
“It’s a holiday. Humans don’t have to work.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Work in the garden.”
“But, it’s Labor Day. You aren’t supposed to work.”
“I am retired, and Daddy works weekends, so Monday is our garden day. We will rest Tuesday.”
“You’re a rebel Mommy,” I said.
She smiled. “Is there anything else tomorrow?” I asked.
“It is Pocket’s birthday.”
“Is she we going to get special food and gifts?”
“No. Your sister can’t eat anything special without getting sick, and except for her ball she doesn’t play with toys.”
“We can still do special food and gifts,” I offered. “And I will eat them and play with them.”
“We just did that for your birthday.”
“I know, and it was awesome. Let’s do it again.”
“Now that wouldn’t be fair to Pocket.”
I looked at my clueless sister sleeping next to Daddy. “So what is she going to get?”
“Lots of snuggle time, lap time, scratches, extra lap time, and love.”
“At my expense?” I asked stunned.
“Oh man, birthday are like farts. When they are yours, they are OK but when they are someone else’s they suck.”
Mommy smiled again and then she slipped off to sleep to visit Foley.
The next day Pocket got extra attention, and I walked around all day like I smelled a fart.