Birthday Boy – The Good, The Bad and the Ugly
Birthday Boys – The Good, The Bad and the Ugly
In this world where kids are allowed to pop balloons on birthday parties, there live three charming little birthday party boys—Good Boy, Bad Boy and Spiderman.
Good Boy, three years old, is every mommy’s dream come true. He owns the sweetest, slightest smile, just enough to show a dimple at his left cheek. He is not necessarily shy, but he is well behaved and pretends he doesn’t know you’ve prepared a birthday celebration for him. He closes his eyes when you tell him to; you know the blindfold is only for the sake of formality.
He claps his little hands when he sees the cake.
He waits for the happy birthday song to end before he blows the candles. And when he can’t put them all out in one blow, he doesn’t mind big sister helping him. Good Boy is a good sport at a birthday party. He doesn’t sit on the chair on purpose so little brother can stay in his favorite game, Trip-to-Jerusalem. And when he’s tired and sweaty from all the playing, he goes to mommy for a towel and powder to keep him cool. He’s very well-mannered, you see, so that even if he keeps on eying the presents, he patiently waits until the end portion of the birthday party when mommy announces it was time to open them. And when he does, he thanks each giver with a quick hug.
Bad Boy, five years old, is quite the opposite in birthday festivities. He constantly nags about a magic kit a week before his birthday celebration. When asked about the birthday party preparations, he shrugs his shoulders and says he does not care. But when the day arrives, he will insist on a clown. Poor mommy has to even keep the gifts out of reach because Bad Boy is sure to open them ahead of schedule.
There was one time, when mom was busy with the ice cream, that a guest came to the birthday party late. She didn’t know the rules, so she excitedly handed her gift to Bad Boy. As expected, he tore the present open and took out a shiny Bat mobile. He studied it for a while and, with the rest of the kids at the birthday party swarming around him, played with it all by himself. Dad tried to get him back to the birthday celebration, but nothing convinced him anymore—not even Egg Relay. Of course we understand why mom also kept the cake before the happy birthday song; he always had his way with the icing.
But Bad Boy is nothing compared to Spiderman (or Spidey as we shall call him), seven years old. Spidey is the hero of the birthday party. He enters the yard in full costume—complete with his face covered in a semi-elastic mask. In his right hand is a big jar with big brother’s tarantula. He comes in, chest out, and scares cute little girls, sending them running to their mommies. He laughs at the poor girls; his small brood of bullies laughs with him. But if you think this is the worst thing to happen at a birthday party, think again.
Spidey swings from table to table tasting every food with his finger even before the prayer is said. But the games—the girls hate the games. Spidey makes a web of his friends who then box out the other kids when the candy pours out of the birthday party Piñata. His gang is sure to get every candy, every penny. A crying little Susie only makes him smirk. When dad said he should share, he hurries to hungrily and selfishly put every candy to his mouth.
But it’s not only the Piñata. Spidey also gets mad if he doesn’t win a game. One time, it was little Ben who won at Pin-the-Tail on the donkey. The prize was a baseball bat. Spidey immediately snatched it form little Ben and ran around the yard.
Big brother caught him and forced him to give the bat to little Ben (or else!). So Spidey took off his mask, threw the bat, kicked the table and went to his room. He didn’t care if they continued the birthday party, or that they were playing Steal-the-Bacon, or that they were popping balloons. After all, he is Spiderman.
So which kind of birthday boy is your son? How many times have you been to parties where little Spidey or little bad boy was there?
I’ll look forward to your comments.