B-DAY

People who’ve entered the realm of parenthood often develop an overwhelming desire to make their child happy at any cost. In pursuit of seeing that special look of joy on their child’s face many parents are willing to climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest ocean or even invite their child’s friends over for a birthday party.

During a child’s early years birthday parties are very popular social events that exist mainly for the parents of the child’s friends. Parents bring their children to these infant parties, watch them spill things, fill their diapers and be very uninterested in anything going on around them except the dog’s food dish or the cat’s litter box.

When children enter the next birthday phase they’ve shed their diapers and unlocked the deep mysteries of bathroom usage. This is the time when parents drop their children off at the birthday child’s home. Driving away with smug expressions these parents may burst into uncontrollable laughter. They probably just had their child’s birthday party a few weeks earlier and know exactly what experiences await the host parents.

I tried to prepare for my daughter’s birthday party like we were expecting an invasion force from a foreign army.
“Face paints.”
“Check.”
“Sidewalk chalk.”
“Check.”
“Pin the Tail on the Donkey game.”
“Check.”
“What would we need with an escape helicopter?”
“I don’t want to take any chances.”

On B-Day the first wave of little girls arrived in our driveway at the agreed upon time. They first encountered face paints, lawn games and sidewalk chalk. At that time my wife and I were doing a pretty good job at containing the children’s attention span to the things we’d planned. When the next wave of little girls hit our driveway they attacked the lawn games and face paints while the first group began to get a little bored.

That’s when things started to look bad for our side.

Bored little children don’t just sit around and wait for something to happen. These industrious individuals take it upon themselves to find some sort of entertainment whether it’s allowed or not. They will pick flowers from your garden that should not be picked, turn on your lawn hose when it’s not supposed to be turned on and if all else fails they will fight with each other.

“Don’t call me stupid.”
“Okay you’re not stupid. You’re ugly.”
“I hate you.”
“Oh yeah, well I hate you worse.”
“I want to go home.”
“Me too.”
“Waaaah.”
“Waaaah.”

At those moments I did what any self-respecting father would have done, I asked my wife what to do next.
“It looks like we’re being overwhelmed. Should we retreat to the back yard and call in the rescue chopper?”
“No, just get a book and I’ll read to them.”
“Shouldn’t we call in the children’s entertainment SWAT team or something?”
“No, just get a book.”
“You’re just going to read a book to the children?”
“Only after I hit you with it.”

During B-Day my wife and I seemed to have two distinctly different roles. My wife was the chief negotiator during the event. She handled all arguments between the children with the skill of a UN ambassador. She also organized the games, fixed the refreshments and decorated the house. My role required that I ask my wife what to do next and give the children precise directions to the bathroom. We were an unbeatable team.

Our daughter was the perfect hostess. She carefully stacked all the presents her friends brought her in one area and informed us every five minutes that she was ready to open them.
“Is it time to open them yet?”
“Sweetheart your friends have only been here ten minutes.”
“How about we open them in five more minutes.”
“We’ve got a lot of things to do first.”
“Six more minutes.”
“How about you let me show you where the bathroom is?”
“Are there any more presents in there for me?”

We gave the children everything we had at the birthday party. There were games, cake and ice cream, present openings, more games, refreshments, unexpected games and little kids running everywhere.
By the end of the day our house looked like it had been hit by Hurricane Little Kid Birthday Party. My wife and I were exhausted. When the parent’s started to arrive we treated them like liberating heroes.
“You have no idea how happy we are to see you.”
“Quit kissing my hand.”

The results from polling the birthday party participants was positive. They couldn’t wait for our daughter’s birthday party next year, so they could tear up our yard, argue and ruin our flowers once again. I suppose we should be glad we’re able to give them something to look forward to.

The celebration of my daughter’s birthday is more than just a party for us. It is a time when we remember that special moment several years ago when we were blessed with a child. An event that has forever changed our lives. A milestone worthy of all the happy celebration we give it. The day when my wife and I changed from being just a couple into being a family of our very own.