And Happy it Was

Rojo had a really happy birthday. All his favorite people came to see him, and they gave him all his favorite things: money for the the ice cream truck, gift cards to frozen yogurt, junk food and college T-shirts. One family even made him a T-shirt (can't even imagine doing such a thing) with an ironed on letter on the front for his first name, and a "16" on the back. The shirt is florescent yellow and super cool. He wore it for two days straight and slept in it.

Somehow he got it in his head that now that he's 16, he can, and indeed should, say no to everything I ask him to do. He told me in no uncertain terms, "Now that I am 16 I can do whatever I want. I will say no to everything you ask me to do. I quickly cleared up the confusion. "Okay, when I'm 22 I will do whatever I want to do and say no to everything you ask me to do."

We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. It's funny, though, because this is the third time his 22nd birthday has come up in 24 hours. The first time was on his birthday when he went to get the mail to see if he had any birthday cards (he had two), and in there was also a letter from the Disability Services notifying him he qualifies (happy birthday!) until he's 22, and then he'll need to be re-evaluated. Apparently there is some government agency that believes it's possible in six years for him to suddenly be a fully independent adult.

Then today we took Rojo's friend to yogurt, and the friend said, "I'm going to take Rojo out drinking on his 21-er." I reminded the friend that he would still be 20 when Rojo turns 21. "Not a problem," he said, "I'll get fake ID for the night."

"I do not want to go out for a 21-er" Rojo piped in (he has no idea what a 21-er is) "I will go out for a 22-er."

There you have it.