I wonder if Eddie’s cousin Teddy will ever forgive him for his latest, “I hate socks!” move. Jeannie had a birthday party for Teddy, and of course, all of his cousins, classmates, aunties, grandparents and extended family members were there.
Jeannie, bless her heart, made his favorite flavor birthday cake–chocolate with marshmallow frosting. Then she wisely had second thoughts and had a local bakery deliver one that would actually look like a cake, taste like a cake, and be edible like a cake.
Jeannie’s cake went to the local state park as a treat for the buffalo. We distracted her after we saw one buffalo walk up to the cake and take a sniff of it and start to turn around. I won’t go into further details about how the buffalo decorated the cake on his own.
Back to the party. All was going well. We made sure that Eddie got a nap beforehand, because nothing says desperate mothers like a two o’clock in the afternoon birthday party attended by a toddler who usually naps at that time. He had the cutest little jeans outfit on, and we managed to distract him from tearing off his socks the moment we dressed him for the event by buying him brand new cowboy boots.
As I said, the party was going well. The older kids were playing outside and roasting hotdogs and marshmallows on the open pit fire under Rodney’s supervision. The younger ones were pinning tails on donkeys, taking whacks at piñatas, and filling up on baby pizzas and Popsicles.
Lex placed the cake in the middle of the dining room table and then helped us round up all the kids for the traditional singing of the birthday song and lighting the candles.
Eddie had been wandering from adult to adult, relishing the attention that his cute little dimples dictated, with the grownups mistakenly calling him “angel”. He seemed to have survived the afternoon, thus far. We all had.
The kids began to sing Happy Birthday, and Teddy was in his glory at the attention. Earlier, I’d fixed a concoction that I remember being called “frappe” when I was a kid. Made of sherbet and ginger ale, it was a kid’s own elixir. I had loved it when I was a kid, and I was sure that the birthday celebrants would enjoy it with the cake, as well. It had large blocks of sherbet floating in it, and so I didn’t suspect a thing until I ladled the first glassful and poured soggy pair of brown boy’s socks into the first cup.
‘Happy Birthday to you’ turned into a chorus of “Ewyewww! Gross!”
How Eddie got his cowboy boots off and his socks in the punchbowl with no one noticing, I’ll never know. And how he maintained his angelic expression on his face while the adults roared with laughter and the kids demanded Kool-Aid instead, I’ll never know.
But this I do know this: He’s wearing sandals from now on.