In which I demonstrate my emotional incontinence

It's official.

I am a dork.

Yep. No question about it. Not to drag out the celebration of my birthday into its second week, but the present from my daughter is proof positive of my dorkitude.

You see, I knew what I wanted her to give me for my birthday. In fact, I set the machinery in motion just to make sure it happened.

"Oh, Wonderhubby," I said about a month and half ahead of time. "There is something that I want for my birthday from Roo, and I need you to make it happen."

"Uh ..." he said, looking a little pale.

"It will require you to be just a little sneaky," I continued. "Do you think you can handle this?"

"Uh ..." he repeated, looking a little panicky.

"Because it's something I could very easily buy for myself, but I want it to come from her," I explained.

"Uh ..."

So I told him what it was.

"How do I make THAT happen?" he asked. "Why would she ask me for ideas?"

"Easy," I chirped. "Just go to her and ask HER for help with picking out something from YOU."

"Uh ..."

"And then you can offer up an idea that you just KNOW that I would like from HER."

"Uh ..."

So I waited.

And waited.

Until ...

"Hello, birthday grrrrrl," Roo chirped on first thing in the morning on the day in question.

I smiled at her enthusiasm for my birthday even at 7 a.m.

"Wait!" She disappeared briefly into her room and reappeared with a little package, wrapped in purple ribbon, in her hand.

"Here!" she said, pushing the package at me with a giant smile on her face. "Open it!"

I did.

And I pulled out a little megaphone charm.

The same one the varsity cheerleaders wear.

And in spite of the fact that I knew it was coming ...

In spite of the fact that I had, in reality, manipulated the entire affair ...

I looked at my daughter's shining, grinning face as she happily and lovingly bestowed upon me a symbol of my importance in her world ...

And I cried.

I am a dork.