my daughter's first birthday

BY RICHARD TURCK

If you're a parent, then you know there's nothing quite as memorable as your child's first birthday. The way their eyes light up when they see the cake, how they giggle when you use the party blowers, and the way your house burns down from poor candle placement. It truly is unforgettable.

All of this reminds me of the first birthday party I threw for my daughter. It was a warm, sunny day and I was out shopping for the perfect gift at Ace Hardware. If I know babies like I think I do, then they love home improvement. Rummaging through the aisles, I couldn't decide what my daughter would enjoy more: electrical tape, PVC piping, or door hinges. I tried asking the opinion of one of the staff members, but by the confused look on his face, I could tell he thought they were all great.

Once I got home, I found my wife putting up streamers of all colors and could smell cake baking in the oven. She cast a bit of an odd look on her face when she saw the Ace bag in my hand, but I just gave her a wink and slipped away into the bedroom to wrap the gifts. While in the bedroom, I discovered we didn't have any wrapping paper, so I figured one of my old tube socks from the hamper would do just fine.

As my wife pulled the cake out of the oven, I suddenly realized I had forgotten the birthday candles while I was out shopping. Nervously darting my eyes around the room, I tried to come up with a backup plan before I had to reveal my forgetfulness. Then, just as my wife was about to ask me to light the cake, I remembered I had a secret stash of firecrackers in the garage. It was either that or the road flares I kept in my truck. And even though I'm a big fan of safety, road flares just don't scream "Party!" quite like their more festive counterpart.

While my better half, or perhaps better whole, was in the other room getting our daughter, I spelled the word "ONE" with my replacement "candles" and stood back in satisfaction. Once we were all in the kitchen, gathered around the table, I shut off the lights and lit the cake. I could tell my wife knew something was up with the candles by the way she began to say, "Why do they sound like....?" But before she could finish the sentence, there was a tremendous "POP, POP, POP, SNAP, POP, POP, OH MY GOD, POP, POP, WHAT DID YOU, POP, SNAP, POP, POP!!!!" as frosting went flinging in every direction.

When the smoke cleared, it appeared that 75% of the frosting had landed on my wife's face. I tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Wow, what are the odds that most of it would land right there!?" But she wasn't in the mood to discuss probabilities. I had screwed up big time and needed to redeem myself, pronto. Luckily, I knew just the thing. As I confidently looked at my wife's agitated face, I revealed the old tube sock and placed it on the table with a smile. "What's this?" she snapped. That's when I pulled out electrical tape, door hinges, and a package of wood screws from inside the sock. My wife was so pleased with my thoughtful gift choices that she was forced to storm out of the room to conceal her excitement.

For some reason, I was no longer allowed to buy gifts, light candles, or be present at subsequent birthday parties. Of course, that's not going to stop me from giving my daughter the keys to a brand new, hot air balloon for her sixteenth birthday. After all, what's a party without balloons?

Richard Turck is a 28-year-old human being who enjoys certain things more than others. His humor writings have been found lurking in various places across the web. If you happen to spot one, proceed with extreme caution as they are considered armed and dangerous.