Birdie knows what a birthday is.
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She's known since she was two, and she learned it the way everybody learns it — because somebody who had no reason to bother went to a lot of trouble, and she could feel it.
THE END.
My eight-year-old skipped lunch for six weeks to buy a red dress for the little girl across the street. The next morning our lawn was covered with fifty lunchboxes — and taped to the biggest one, a beat-up metal thing sitting alone in the middle of the grass, was a note that said OPEN THIS ONE FIRST.
