My cake is on fire!

Tear it up?  Really?

My little grand girl, Averie, had her first birthday on Sunday.  A year has gone by already and as we all know, that first year is filled with...well, many firsts.  And once a "first" happens, it can never be repeated as a first, but can only be refined.

As the only grand girl, Averie has had her fair share of attention.  She has two older adoring (and adorable) brothers, many aunts ready to buy dresses after a season of boys that started 14 years ago (not that there is anything wrong with that), not to mention Mimi and Grandma's.

I started thinking about Averie's big day from her perspective and wondered what her impression must be.  Imagine for a minute, you are again, a small child.  Much beloved and taken care of and you wake up, just like any other day......

For me?

It's a regular day except today when my mom picked me up, she said, "It's the Birthday Girl".  Is she talking to me?  Hmmph.  Every time someone sees me, they say "here comes the "Birthday Girl".  I was just getting used to being called Honey Pie or Averie.  Now I am quite certain I am the Birthday girl.  This makes everyone else smile when they say it.  I am smiling now, too.

It seems we are having a lot of extra people in our house today.  I know many of them but some of them I have only seen in pictures.  And quite frankly, some of them I don't know at all.  But all of them are bringing in bags and boxes that look like they might be fun to play with.  And everyone is friendly so it's all good.  When I start to scoot over to see the boxes, they quickly are moved out of my way.

Yay, kids that I have seen before are here that are almost the same size as me.  Well, when they sit down, we are all the same size.  I am going over to sit with them.  Mom is bringing over those colorful boxes now and letting me tear the paper.  THIS NEVER HAPPENS.   Fun toys are in the boxes but  apparently I can only look at them, because once the box is open, it's time to move them out of my reach and start on another box for me to tear.  This happens many times.  Every time I tear the paper, people clap and smile.  WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?  This is not the reception I usually get when I am tearing things up.  I like being the Birthday Girl.

Looks like fun...

Soon we have tore up all the packages and there are new things to look at all over the floor.  All the paper has been picked up and the fun boxes are gone.  Some of the big people are playing with my new toys.  Are they for everyone?  As I start to reach for one....

I am scooped up and taken to my high chair.  Wait, what's happening?  Who turned out the lights?  Who picked me up?  I already had lunch but someone has now buckled me into my high chair.  In the dark.  Wait, I smell something.  Is that smoke?  I see lights...oh my gosh. What is going on?  My mom has just taken a perfectly good cake and lit it on FIRE!  FIRE!!!  Why is everyone surrounding me?  All these people in the dark, chanting something about a Happy Birthday.  HELP.  Is  that my MOM coming at me with that cake on FIRE?  What kind of sick, twisted ritual is going on around here?  Oh no, I'M THE BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!

None for me, thanks.

Then we wonder why she knocked that serving of cake across the room when it was served to her. Seriously, the "party" was over for her.  My daughter told me she was fussy and ready for nap but I knew the real reason.  She wanted out of that room because, knowing she was the BIRTHDAY GIRL, she wasn't confident that she wasn't next.

And now after all these years, I understand why, whenever someone sings Happy Birthday to me, I find myself fighting back tears.  I always thought I was just being silly.

Until next time,
#repressedmemoriessurface,

Your pal, Kari