[ WP ] `` I 've always hated birthdays . '' `` Why ? '' `` They remind me of all the things I could 've done . ''

`` Well, that's awfully morbid for a six year old,'' said Peter's mom, stirring her tea. 
 
 `` I want to stop growing up,'' he said, sullenly eating his colorful cereal. 
 
 `` Oh, honey. I wish that, too.'' She ruffled her son's hair. `` But until science changes fairly dramatically, let's throw you a birthday party.'' 
 
 `` Okay,'' said Peter, gloomily. 
 
 `` What theme should we have, sweetie? Transformers? Dinosaurs?'' 
 
 `` Death,'' he said immediately. The family had recently lost their dog, Daisy. She had been older than Peter, and the experience of losing something he'd had his whole life was awful and fascinating. 
 
 `` I do n't know if that's a very good theme.'' 
 
 `` We can have skeletons and we can sit in coffins and we can think about heaven,'' said Peter, excitedly. `` You can dress me up like I'm dead.'' 
 
 `` And how's that?'' said his mother, a mix of amusement and disturbance. 
 
 `` Like a fancy suit and tie, like they buried Grandpa in.'' 
 
 `` How did you know that?'' said his mother, chilled. Her dad had died before Peter was born. 
 
 Peter smiled. `` He's right here, Mommy. And he told me to tell you something.'' His voice lowered, impossibly so for such a a young boy. `` You wo n't get away with it, Valerie. You'll pay for what you did.''
