*July 7th, 2005*
"Happy Birthday Casey!" I opened my tired little eyes and saw my mom holding a balloon over my head. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, eager to start the day.
When I got downstairs I saw my little brother Micheal sitting in his high chair, and a birthday breakfast on the table. I sat right down and ate my breakfast, so I could continue on with the day. As I was eating I heard my mom and dad talking in the other room.
"It's your daughters birthday!" I heard my mom say, "and you're already drunk! Do you understand the effect this has on the kids?"
Uh oh, I thought. I hope my sixth birthday is better than last years. I got up out of my chair and walked into the room where my parents were. Daddy had a beer in his hand, and mommy was looking at him, dissapointed.
"Mommy," I said, "daddy. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," my mom assured me, "why don't you go finish your breakfast?"
I stood still for a minute, not knowing if I wanted to move. Daddy seemed mad, because he pushed right past me. Did I do something? I started to cry. Mommy hugged me and told me daddy was just a little upset, and that it was going to be ok.
I heard a loud bang from the other room and mommy and I both jumped. Mommy ran into the other room, where the tv was on the ground, and daddy was chugging a beer.
"Thomas!" Mommy screamed. Daddy walked up to mommy and slapped her on the cheek. Why was he doing this?
I ran over to my little brother and held his hand, trying to calm him down, trying to calm myself down.
Mommy walked into the kitchen and daddy just looked at me. I heard mommy mumbling in the kitchen, and then she walked back in the room.
"Now you're in trouble," she said.
A few minutes later the police knocked on our door. They told me to take my brother upstairs, so that's what I did.
After a little while, mommy told me it was okay to come downstairs.
"Everything's okay now," she said, "now we can celebrate your birthday."
This happened on my last birthday too. And at least once every few months. Daddy would be back, he always comes back. Mommy always lets him back in. I love my daddy, I do, but sometimes I just wish he could be nicer.
I hugged my mommy, and wiped the tear rolling down my cheek.