TODAY I TURN eight. That’s right: half of sixteen, two to the third power, sideways infinity. Today whatever I say goes.
Grandma is kneeling in the garden when we pull up for the party. She’s cooler than most grandmas. She usually has mud on her jeans and blades of grass in her ponytail. She laughs a lot and calls me “Parsnip,” even though my real name is Parker, because everything is vegetables and flowers for her.
Grandpa is the exact opposite of Grandma. He’s like a sack of wrinkly onions. I don’t mean to be obnoxious, but it’s true. He’s that
