My Birthday Gift

I am a very special individual. It's not only my mother that tells me this, and the fact that I am special is not related at all to my cognitive function. It is, however related to my age. You see I am only eight. Yes, I age four times slower than anyone else. No, it's not a blessing. I have been on the receiving end of countless jokes and teases but perhaps the most hurtful thing of all is the guffaw. Yes, the guffaw. Conversations about my birthday generally go this way: 'your how old?' '8' 'I don't believe you!' 'no, really, look' 'guffaw, so you only get how many birthdays?' That's the guffaw. I don't like it. Ah, the trials of being a leapling. Yes, automatic spell checky guy, that is a word. Not too sure about 'checky' though. This is only the third post and I'm already achieving an exceptional amount of waffle. Anyway, Birthday gift. Mine. From my brother, who has also decided to run through the Moroccan desert, I received a Camelbak. Actually it wasn't a Camelbak, as that would imply that it was made by the Camelbak company, instead it was a camel back. Made by Osprey it contains a two litre bladder and two pockets. Most excellent for training purposes, although I have yet to use it. I will let you know how it goes when I get to that point. ie when I can run between 10 power poles.