2009-11-02 - 10:36 a.m.

Today is my birthday and I am 21 years old. Actually, I'm 11 so I can't even buy a beer.

I don't want a bunch for my birthday but I am thinking of asking for either one nice present or a few little presents, or maybe a few big presents, or maybe a lot of big presents. Don't worry; I'm not greedy. I'm kidding. I'm thinking of either dance classes with Sarah Grace or maybe an engineering kit.

I spent the last two nights at Ma's house with Mom and Sarah Grace. We watched football all day Saturday with Will and then Food Network. Ma is on a Food Network kick.

I haven't been online much to write on my journal because I'm not allowed to go online without Mom home. When she gets home, I just want to spend time with her.

Will is living with Ma but Mom goes to see about her a lot and then she lets Will come home to see everybody, especially Richard because Richard misses him so much. I've never seen Richard and Will ever argue. Sometimes Will has to correct Richard and Richard doesn't like it, but they are like peas and carrots. When Will came home to get his hair cut, Richard jumped up and grabbed him around his neck and Will started slinging him around and throwing balls at all of us. It was a fun ruckus.

Ma likes Will taking care of her best because she trusts him the most to pick her up. When the nurse comes to bathe her, Ma only wants Will to carry her or put her in the tub. Will knows all about her medicine and he works with the hospice nurses to take care of her. They love him, too. In fact, one of the nurses came over and taught Will how to fry chicken the way Ma likes it. He said they had fun putting together a traditional Southern meal with rice and gravy and Henderson Bush butterbeans. Those ladies love Will probably because he is so tender caring for Ma and he is polite.

I was here for Halloween, which we don't celebrate. We've never had trick-or-treaters come to our house because we live down a long lane, but they come to Ma's house even though we turned the lights out. Ma lives in a big Victorian house that is up on a hill and looks very creepy with all the lights out. One group of teenagers came to the door, and when we didn't answer, a girl with a Brooklyn accent said, "Oh my gawd, no one's home... LET"S GET OUTTA HERE!" Yankees crack me up.

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