Mum Forgot My Birthday
Eleanor woke to the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Mum was already up, as usual, preparing breakfast for Dad before work. The girl stretched, smiled, and listened—perhaps she’d hear birthday wishes drifting from the kitchen? But all that reached her were the ordinary morning murmurs about the rain starting again and the umbrella left on the bus.
Eleanor sat up in bed, smoothing her pyjamas dotted with pink elephants. Today, she turned nine. A whole nine years old! Yesterday, she’d reminded Mum several times that her birthday was tomorrow, and Mum had nodded, saying, “Of course, love, of course I remember.” Yet now, no one seemed in any hurry to wish her a happy birthday.
“Ellie, breakfast is ready!” Mum called from the kitchen, her voice as ordinary as ever, not a hint of celebration.
The girl dressed quickly and hurried to the kitchen. Dad sat at the table with his newspaper while Mum dished out scrambled eggs. Eleanor paused in the doorway, waiting.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Dad said, not looking up. “Sit down and eat, or you’ll be late for school.”
“Good morning,” Eleanor replied softly, taking her seat.
She waited. Maybe they were planning a surprise? Perhaps a cake or presents would appear any moment? But Mum, as if nothing were amiss, set a plate of eggs and a glass of milk before her.
“Eat up, don’t dawdle. You’ve got a lot of schoolwork today—you’ll need your energy,” Mum said, drying her hands on a tea towel.
“Mum, do you know what today’s date is?” Eleanor ventured, poking at her eggs with a fork.
“The fifteenth of October. Why?” Mum glanced at her absently, already distracted by other thoughts.
“Just wondering,” Eleanor mumbled, staring at her plate.
The fifteenth of October. Mum knew the date but not what it meant. A pang tightened in Eleanor’s chest, but she fought to hide her disappointment.
Dad finished his coffee, kissed Mum on the cheek, and ruffled Eleanor’s hair.
“Right, I’m off. See you tonight,” he said, pulling on his coat.
“Bye, Dad,” Eleanor whispered.
Now it was just her and Mum. Mum cleared the table, humming under her breath. Eleanor ate her eggs, though they tasted as bland as cardboard.
“Mum, could we bake something today?” she tried again. “Maybe a cake?”
“Oh, Ellie, who has time for cakes midweek? We’ve got that doctor’s appointment this evening—remember? Your sore throat last week? The appointment’s at six.”
Eleanor remembered, but she’d hoped Mum might reschedule. Going to the doctor on her birthday wasn’t how she’d imagined the day.
“Could we move it?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t be silly—we’re lucky to get a slot this month. Get ready for school, or you’ll miss first period.”
Eleanor trudged to her room to pack her schoolbag. The girl in the mirror had sad eyes. Maybe they’ll remember later, she thought, tying her hair into a plait.
At school, Eleanor waited all day for someone to wish her happy birthday. Her best friend, Charlotte, might have remembered—they’d planned how to celebrate together. But Charlotte was buried in maths revision, talking of nothing but equations and problems.
At lunch, Eleanor approached her in the corridor.
“Charlie, remember what we said about the fifteenth?” she asked, sitting beside her.
“What about it?” Charlotte looked up from her textbook.
“You know… we had plans.”
“Oh, Ellie, I’m sorry—I’m completely lost in these sums! What plans?”
Eleanor swallowed the lump in her throat. “Never mind. Good luck with your test.”
After school, Eleanor walked home slowly, window-shopping. The bakery displayed lovely cakes; the toy shop had dolls with bright smiles. Any of them could have been gifts—but no one had remembered.
At home, Mum greeted her with the usual questions about school and homework.
“How was your day? Any marks back?” she asked, stirring soup on the hob.
“Fine. Got top marks in English,” Eleanor said, hanging up her coat.
“Well done! Now, do your homework—we’ve got the doctor’s soon.”
Eleanor went to her room but instead of studying, she took out paper and coloured pencils. If no one remembered, she’d make her own birthday card.
She drew a cake with candles, balloons, and wrote in careful script: “Happy Birthday, Eleanor!” It was bright and cheerful. She hid it under her books—a secret little celebration.
Time dragged. She kept checking the clock, hoping Mum might suddenly remember. Maybe she’d cook something special or buy a small cake on the way home.
“Ellie, time to go!” Mum called at half five.
The clinic was noisy and crowded. Mum chatted with another parent about rising food prices and the dodgy heating at home—nothing out of the ordinary.
The doctor was kind. She examined Eleanor’s throat, listened to her chest, and said she was fine but should take vitamins.
“How old is our patient?” the doctor asked, writing a prescription.
“Nine,” Mum replied.
“Nine?” The doctor smiled at Eleanor. “What a big girl! When’s your birthday?”
Eleanor looked at Mum, then at the doctor.
“Today,” she said softly.
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. Mum paled, covering her mouth.
“Today?” Mum’s voice trembled. “Ellie, it’s the fifteenth…”
“Yes, Mum.”
Mum sank onto the chair beside her, pulling her close.
“Oh, my love, I’m so sorry! How could I forget? Work, everything—it’s all been such a blur…” Her voice shook, and Eleanor felt tears dampen her hair.
“It’s alright, Mum,” Eleanor said, patting her hand.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” the doctor said warmly. “Nine is a grand age!”
“Thank you,” Eleanor smiled.
They rode home in silence. Mum held her hand, stroking her fingers. At their doorstep, she stopped.
“Ellie, run up to Dad. I’ll pop to the shops—quick as a wink, alright?”
“What are you getting?”
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.” Mum kissed her cheek. “Go on—no arguing.”
Inside, Eleanor told Dad about the clinic and Mum’s errand. Dad frowned, glanced at the calendar, and groaned.
“I forgot too! Good heavens, what parents we are… Ellie, darling, forgive us!”
He hugged her tightly, and the hurt began to fade. They hadn’t meant to forget—life had just been busy.
Mum returned with bulging bags, flushed from hurrying.
“Everyone to the kitchen!” she ordered. “Dad, put the kettle on! Ellie, wash up!”
From the bags came a sponge cake, candles, balloons, and a small doll in a frilly dress.
“This was all I could manage,” Mum said, arranging them on the table. “Tomorrow, we’ll go proper shopping for your gift.”
“Mum, I love it all,” Eleanor said, admiring the doll.
Dad blew up balloons; Mum lit nine candles. It wasn’t perfect, but it was their celebration.
“Make a wish and blow them out!” Dad said, hugging her.
Eleanor closed her eyes, wished, and blew. Her parents clapped.
“What did you wish for?” Mum asked, slicing the cake.
“Can’t tell—or it won’t come true,” Eleanor grinned.
(She’d wished her parents would never forget important days again—and that they’d always be happy and healthy.)
The cake was delicious, layered with strawberry cream. Over tea, her parents shared silly childhood stories. Mum recalled getting a bicycle at seven and promptly riding it into a puddle. Dad told of his ninth birthday, when Gran mistook salt for sugar in the cake.
“You know, Ellie,” Mum said later, “we’ve been terrible with dates. Let’s start a family calendar—write everything down.”
“Yes,” Eleanor agreed.
“And every Sunday, we’ll check the week ahead,” Dad added. “No more disappointments.”
Eleanor nodded. Her birthday hadn’t been what she’d dreamed, but it was special all the same.
At bedtime, Mum sat on her bed.
“Have you forgiven me?” she asked softly.
“Of course, Mum. Everyone forgets sometimes.”
“Not things this important. I’ve let you down.”
“But we celebrated in the end! The cake was lovely, and the doll too.”
Mum smoothed her hair.
“You’re such a wise, kind girl. I’m proud of you.”
“And I’m proud of you and Dad.”
“Goodnight, my nine-year-old princess.”
After Mum left, Eleanor took out her homemade card. She smiled. Tomorrow, she’d show it to them—proof that even when others forgot, she could still find joy.
