Bert-day
I remember the first birthday I ever had that wasn’t held at a McDonalds Playplace. I was in Kindergarten and we had just moved back to Springfield after a year in Norfolk. I know I had a whole group of friends there, yet I cannot remember a single guest, hold Michael. He won the drawing contest that my sister judged even though his work was clearly the most underdeveloped. He was also the only boy invited.
In third grade I begged my mother for a sleepover. She was against the idea but told me I could either have a normal three-hour-day-party with as many guests as I wanted or I could have my sleepover and only invite one friend. I chose the sleepover because the present situation did not occur to me at the time. I would not have another birthday sleepover for a very long time.
In fourth grade I cried and told my mother it was all her fault. “You always make me cry at my birthday!” I can remember exactly where in the VA Beach house she and I were standing (on the little two step stairs between the kitchen and the family room, I was one step down into the other room and she was still in the kitchen), but cannot for the life of me remember what had started me crying.
In sixth grade I had a themed party: Garfield. I had a Garfield cake and wore a sweatshirt with a picture of the cat and his name embroidered on it. When I planned to have a Garfield themed party, however, I didn’t realized what a strong influence the theme would have on my guests. I still have an Odie t-shirt, countless Garfield comic books, a few action figures (go figure), and two of those plush Garfields that suction-cup to the side window of your car (unused please note).
Anyway, today is my Birthday.
