On the morning of his tenth birthday, James Wilson woke up at the crack of dawn, as his granddad would say. He didn't know what else could have woken him, since his alarm clock hadn't gone off. He thought the crack of dawn must be a sound, like ice breaking or a twig snapping. Or maybe dawn slipped in through a crack in the sky, like the hallway light creeping under his door. But it was still dark outside, so maybe dawn hadn't cracked yet.

Granddad also said the early bird got the worm, but James didn't know what the big deal about that was. He didn't eat worms, and if he got up before his mother, he wouldn't get anything else to eat, unless he made cereal or toast, and that wasn't a birthday breakfast. Besides, worms lived in the earth, so they wouldn't know when dawn cracked. Sometimes his granddad said things that didn't make any sense.

It was definitely too early to get up, though. His mother had promised to make him pancakes with blueberries and whipped cream for his birthday, and she'd even said he could pour the batter on the griddle and flip the pancakes. But she wouldn't get up until the alarm clock had gone off at least three times, so he decided to stay in bed and wait. He burrowed under the covers, so he wouldn't get cold.

Then his door cracked open -- a real crack this time -- and James sat up, shading his eyes against the sudden spill of light into his room. At first, all he saw was a dark shadow in the doorway, but then the figure stepped into his room and solidified into his father, like the Wonder Twins taking back their real form.

"Up and at 'em, Jimbo," he whispered. "We've got a big day ahead of us." His father was dressed in weekend clothes, even though it was Wednesday. He never wore weekend clothes on Wednesdays, even when he was only going into the office to mark papers.

"Aren't you going to work?" James whispered back.

"Not today. I know this great kid who's having a birthday, so I thought we'd both play hooky."

James frowned. Mrs. Beltz didn't like it when kids played hooky. If she caught them, they had to stay after school every day for a week, or until they made up the time they missed. James didn't mind staying after school, especially if he could work on the gold cards in SRA without his friends noticing, but he didn't want to get a bad mark on his report card.

"Won't we get in trouble?"

His father chuckled softly. "I think it will be okay. It's good to be responsible, Jimmy, but don't miss out on life because you're too cautious. Sometimes it's all right to break the rules."

Still, James hesitated. He didn't have any tests and he was ahead in most of his classes, but he'd never deliberately skipped school before. But if his father said it was all right, maybe it wasn't really skipping. He scrambled out of bed and hurried over to the dresser, skittering over the cold floorboards. "What should I wear?" he asked. "Is it a running around kind of day or a sitting one?" It was hard to tell from his father's clothes.

"Why don't you pick something that you can sit and run in?"

It wasn't really an answer, but his father liked him to figure things out for himself. James thought about it carefully and pulled out a pair of brown cords, broken down just enough for the ridges to be soft beneath his fingertips, and his favourite green sweatshirt. He could do anything in these clothes. "Is this all right?"

"Perfect," his father replied. "Get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast. We need to fuel up before we hit the road." He tousled James's hair. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

James dressed as quickly as he could and tiptoed past Danny's room, careful not to wake him. Danny kept his door open, because he was still afraid of the dark and he didn't want to be trapped in the room when the monsters came. Sometimes, James would wake up in the middle of the night to Danny crawling into his bed and curling up next to him. He liked it that Danny felt safe with him, but he was glad Danny hadn't gotten scared last night.

His mother was in the kitchen, stirring a bowl. She was still dressed in her nightgown and slippers, but the kitchen was the first room to warm up in the mornings. She smiled when she saw James and opened her arms for a hug. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," she said. "You're just in time. I'm ready to pour the batter now."

James dragged the kitchen stool over to the counter and climbed up until he could lean over the griddle. He grabbed the bowl firmly with both hands and tilted it carefully, letting the batter pool and sizzle in perfect circles. He waited until his mother nodded and then slid the spatula underneath a pancake. It slipped off the first time he tried to flip it over, but the next time he lifted the spatula a little higher and the pancake slapped face down, spreading a halo of uncooked batter.

"You'll be a master pancake maker in no time," his mother said approvingly. "Why don't you get a glass of orange juice and sit at the table so I can serve my birthday boy his birthday breakfast." She smoothed down his hair and gave him a kiss before lifting him off the stool. "I don't know what time you and your father will get back, so we'll have your birthday dinner on Friday when your grandparents come over."

James would have liked to stay in the warm kitchen with his mother, but even as she delivered his plate, the pancakes piled high with whipped cream and blueberries, just like she promised, his father came in from the garage.

"The car's warming up," he said. "I'm ready to hit the road when you are."

"Let him eat his breakfast, Joe," his mother said, but James bolted down each bite, barely tasting the blueberries.

When he was finished, he took his plate to the sink and rinsed away the last splashes of syrup and fruit. His mother took the plate and kissed him again. "Brush your teeth and hair. I don't want you running about like a ragamuffin with bad breath."

James wrinkled his nose, but hugged her tightly and ran off to do as she said. She was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, when he came back. "Those were the best pancakes I've ever had," he said, because he knew it would make her smile. And that made it true.

"Ten years old," she sighed. "You're growing up so fast. Soon you'll be taller than me."

"And then I can make pancakes for you in the morning." Ten years was old, he decided. A full decade; two numbers written next to each other. He stretched on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek and then dashed out the door to where his father was waiting.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he pulled the seatbelt across his lap.

"We'll see when we get there," his father replied. "Half the fun is in the journey. And the rest is who you take it with." He grinned when James looked doubtful. "What do you think about a sail up the river, maybe do a little catch and release? It's supposed to get up to 55 today, but I packed extra clothes in the trunk, just in case."

James thought that was perfect. And it was.