Happy birthday, King!

This time, Bloggie, my gift to him is a visit to the dermatologist and, quite possibly, a facial.

Several weeks prior to this day, I couldn't help but notice how he wrinkled his young forehead every single time I saw him in front of the mirror. I know the feeling very, very well. I wanted to spare him the misery of miseducation and physically damaging experimentation that I offered to take him to the dermatologist. I got a blank stare. I persisted. For good measure, I gave him the lowdown on facial treatments that could get so excruciating it was like the equivalent of a face-off minus the anesthesia. He turned visibly pale, but I was beyond caring. It was for his own good!

We are in front of the clinic and neither of us is moving. Two minutes later, I look at him real hard and tell him it is going to be all right. He must have seen flaming red eyes or something but he finally opens the door. I breathe a sigh of relief. Brother!

After the assessment, King is endorsed to one of the attendants for a deep-cleansing facial. (That one? Gosh. That will hurt some.) I smile at the dermatologist while at the same time assuring my brother that we will sue them to the last penny if they botch the job. King laughs at me. I am dead serious.

I wait for an hour and a half before he emerges from one of the cubicles. His face was red. There is no smile on his face and he is not looking at me. The attendant pulls me aside and tells me King has had to endure a lot. My golly. We leave the clinic in deafening silence and the slowest elevator in the world is taking forever to open. I ask if he is ever coming back for the succeeding treatments. He remains ominously mute.

Outside the building, the weather is balmy. I steal glances at him and see that his face is getting okay fast. I stop walking and ask if he has seen Greenbelt and Glorietta. He hasn't. I know it. Malls to him pertains to the holy trinity of SM Megamall, Edsa Shangri-la and Gateway. Full of conviction, he says Makati is for serious, working AND older people. I am totally stumped. How in heaven's name can I begin to argue with that?

I recover my wits and nudge him to the right and onto Greenbelt. It is lovely - Christmas trimings and always a good vibe all around. I like what I am seeing at every turn, but more so on the fact that King seems to be having some seriously good time. The view - living and non-living - must have been a feast to his eyes.

We keep on walking until we find ourselves in Glorietta. I feel like I am starting to gag but I have an unfinished obligation to my uninitiated underling.

A thousand miles after, I ask him what and where he wants to eat. I shouldn't have asked because he eats anything, absolutely anything edible. He's at this stage where 'live to eat, live to eat' seems the sacred mantra. I bring him to Cibo. It is his birthday, anyway. He likes my choices. Could I be staring at the mirror?

Out of the blue, King suddenly opens up to me. We talk and talk about lots of things - the past, the present, and the future. We can stay rooted to our spot forever but it is getting late. We agree to retrace our steps to the clinic, which, incidentally, is near the terminal.

While waiting in line, I smile back at him, teasingly point to the clinic and remind him of his appointment in a couple of weeks. He appears to mimic me and says, "...for your own good, for your own good. And for my peace of mind,". He really surprises me sometimes.

Lots of firsts for him, he says. I am about to say nothing else applies more to me but I risk smothering him. There's our van.

I am immensely thankful that everything turns out like it does.

I just hope King is still cool once it all sinks in and he realizes that I just became his, well, birthday date. :-P