Your Special Day

My hair looks ridiculous right now.
I just woke up from my annual birthday nap.
I only sleep one day a year.
The day's been great so far.
The piniata took some wallops, but it gave when Sidney Crosby hit it.
Carrottop sucked some helium from one of the balloons and did his act.
Nobody got it.
The fireworks startled me, though.
Generous as the Harbour Breton principals are, my substitute drought was...watered today.
I made the purposeful mistake of letting the grade fours know it was my birthday.
They said they could keep a secret.
Good thing I didn't tell them I have a crush on the custodian.
They got together and wished me a happy birthday over the PA.
Which would've been adorable.
But my absentee teacher forgot to leave a lesson for my third class.
Which I was moments from having to teach at the time.
It was still adorable, actually.
It should be everyone's birthday every day.
So if you feel like staying home during the bull run, everyone will say:
"Ah, that's okay. It's your birthday."
Every meal you have at supper time would be your favourite.
Sort of like being on death row indefinitly.