Best
Birthday Ever
-
by Mr. Mum (The Joy of Six)
It was my 8
year old son’s birthday.
One of the
dilemmas with 6 kids is finding new and interesting ideas for birthday parties
without spending a fortune. I hadn’t had much time to organise anything, so I
had opted for a party at home with some of his friends, with party food in the
kitchen and a few of the standard party games. I hoped that it would be enough,
but I had my doubts.
The kids
filed in, seven boys and one girl, Kate. She was a lovely young lady who, for
some reason, was very popular with the boys. They sat around the table and
started eating and drinking with the normal haste kids have when they think
someone else will get the last piece of fairy bread.
I was
considering the relative merits of “Pass the Parcel” and “Pin the Tail on
the Donkey”, when one of the little gentlemen let out a rather forced
“lemonade and sausage roll” burp.
I had eight
little pairs of eyes on me in an instant, and I sensed that the success or
failure of the party depended on my response. Some of the kids looked slightly
worried, some were hiding smirks, and I think my son was breaking out into a
cold sweat. Kate showed no reaction at all, for which I was grateful.
I remembered
an old adage my mum had told me…”If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth
doing well”. Without thinking of the consequences, I told the kids that no
burps or farts were allowed unless they were good ones. I thought myself really
clever…just enough discipline in my voice to let them know who’s boss…just
enough levity to keep the party going. I returned to skinless franks and my
thoughts on party games.
Not long
after, I heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back, and then a thunderous
burp, followed by cheers, laughter and murmured appreciation. Next was a loud
fart, followed by more cheers. The seven little gentlemen had taken me
literally!
The party
was now a wind-fest. I couldn’t do anything but let nature take its course.
I noticed
Kate sitting quietly, perhaps enjoying what was going on, but not “actively
participating”, if you know what I mean. Nice kid, I thought to myself. Good
manners.
Before long
the party had degenerated into a cacophony of burps, farts and laughter. I even
joined in (the laughter only). But still Kate sat there quietly. I wondered
whether she was disgusted by it all.
The party
was nearing the end, and I was busy cutting cake and packing lolly bags. The
farts and burps continued unchecked, together with much animated discussion
about whose was the best, loudest, longest, most tuneful, etc.
Then, just
as I turned around, Kate stood up. I presumed she was leaving, or going to the
toilet. But she just stood there…obviously concentrating. She then pushed out
her chest and threw back her head like an early morning rooster, and let go an
ear-shattering burp that rattled the glass in the windows. As the other boys
gaped in amazement, she purposefully leant forward, put both hands on the table
in front of her, squinted, tensed her body, and then farted something that
sounded like the first two verses of the “Last Post”. Once finished, she sat
down and continued eating, oblivious to the acrid stench that was bringing tears
to the eyes of the boys around her.
We all
looked at each other. Not a word was spoken. We knew that the game was over.
Compared to Kate, we had been playing honky-tonk while she was playing Chopin. I
now knew why she was so popular with the boys.
As they all
filed out to their mothers after the party, a few of them winked and smirked at
me. I hoped they knew the unwritten rule about keeping stuff that happens at
boys’ parties just between the boys. It’s a bloke thing, really.
Kate was
last out the door. She stopped, thanked me seriously, and then ran out to her
mother yelling “Mummy, mummy, guess what game I won!!” I just grimaced, and closed the door.
My birthday
boy son was still grinning…”Best birthday ever, Dad.”
Mr Mum
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