I just love this!

No More Birthdays
by Hal Sirowitz
Don't swing the umbrella in the store,
Mother said. There are all these glass jars
of spaghetti sauce above your head
that can fall on you, and you can die.
Then you won't be able to go to tonight's party,
or go to the bowling alley tomorrow.
And instead of celebrating your birthday
with soda and cake, we'll have
anniversaries of your death with tea
and crackers. And your father and I won't
be able to eat spaghetti anymore, because
the marinara sauce will remind us of you.