On my birthday, September 25th, I went to a birthday party--for two four-year-olds. I watched them blow out candles on a birthday cake. I watched them open presents. I sang "Happy Birthday" to them. Then I supressed the urge to scream at the top of my lungs, "But today isn't even their birthday! Today is my freakin' birthday!" But I knew no one would care. It's hard to compete with four-year-olds.
Is it selfish of me to want my actual birthday to be about me? The "birthday" boy (Truman) was enjoying his second birthday party of the week while the "birthday" girl (Rebecca Barnes) was enjoying her third--both on MY birthday! Did the parents and grandparents (or my own wife and kids) stop to acknowledge me on my special day? Of course not. Did it hurt a little? Can I say yes?
But when you get to be 39 years old, people expect you to handle this type of slight maturely. Don't these people know me? Mature? I don't think so. Mature describes wines, not Naughtons. Therefore, I have decided to have a birthday do-over. I will start preparations now for a belated birthday bash to make every four-year-old in Missouri jealous. I'm gonna have a cake, ice cream, pony rides, and a Disney princesses theme. I'll hire a clown, or a stripper, or a mime. Fun will be had--in my honor! Stay tuned, peeps. I'm thinking a bonfire, or a party on the porch, or both (will have a garden hose at the ready.)
Stay tuned, and Happy Birthday to me!
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