Those moments of bent reality where Spawn's sheer existence, her
very soul, was in question this past year have grown further
apart. She's a resilient little sprite and clearly clever beyond
her years. As a result, Vegas Odds makers lost a wad yet again.

I awoke quickly. Eyes wide and energy driving my limbs into
motion, I flipped the covers to the bed back and silently wove my
way through the darkened halls and over creaking stairs. I checked
my watch: 0257. "Lots of time," I grumbled.

I waited outside her room quietly waiting as my watch beeped its
am zenith.

I flicked the light and bellowed... "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"

Spawn shot up blearily staring at me, "I'm awake. I'm awake..."

"I see you are! By the way, hippo birdie."

"'Hippo birdie?' I'm not a hippo or a birdie!"

"How about a song then?"

"Okay."

"Happy birthday to you.
You live in a zoo.
You look like a monkey
Hair all wild,
And, worse,
you smell like one too."

"You keep changing it. I still like it! Can we sing it at my real
birthday tonight?"

"Mom-mom and Pah-puh don't appreciate my humor. Mommy definitely
doesn't..." I grinned.

"It's my birthday! She can lump it," she grinned back. "Love you.
G'night."

Happy birthday again Spawn. It's been a ride.

The Ranger