"So..." Ivian's mom began.
"What?" He asked.
"Y'know... in a few days..."
Ivian looked at her blankly. "What, do you need money?"
"Honey, have you seriously forgotten?"
After a moment of blank nonrecognition, Ivian shook his head. "Forgotten what?"
"Your birthday!"
He swore. "I was hoping you'd forget."
"I'm your mother, honey. I'm physically incapable of forgetting." She crossed her arms. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"Maybe get a drink? I don't care." Ivian turned around and returned to his papers. "I have bigger things to worry about than an arbitrary number tacked onto the word 'years.'"
"I'm organizing a ball." His mother decided.
"WHAT?"