The First Grader turns 7 this week, but we had his party over the weekend. Naturally, a big snowstorm came through that day. Husband was busy finishing up the birthday cake, so I went outside to shovel out some parking spaces. I’m glad I can just copy and paste this same blog entry year after year after year.
Luckily, our friends have caught on and started making secret reservations at their local ski lodge for whatever day the party invitation says. Then they call us up that morning to say they’re totally snowed in, won’t be leaving anytime soon, that’s for sure, barely hanging up before the ski lift deposits them at the top of the powdery slopes.
It may not snow all year, but it always snows on the day we celebrate the birth of our eldest son. He even made the front page of the Boston Herald on Christmas Day 2002 for being born while a sizable nor’easter was bearing down upon us.
(He's the one in the middle. Don't be fooled: he's not sleeping, he's concentrating intently on mobilizing giant weather systems.)
I just assumed kids were born during snowstorms all the time. I didn’t realize this was a sneak preview of his unique superpower. Over the years, Blizzard Boy would prove to have uncanny control over the weather, able to whip the winter winds into a frenzy, dump massive amounts of precipitation onto the surrounding areas, and, perhaps more importantly, enjoy mixing crushed-up candy bars into softened vanilla ice cream anytime of year, even when Dairy Queen isn’t open. (Fear not, Public at Large, he only uses his powers for good, not evil.)
We always manage to have a respectable turnout despite the weather. The parking spaces I clear on the street, while never big enough for actual cars once the plows are through with them, are usually big enough for sled-only parking for the locals. But you know the only reason I bring up these parties is an excuse to show you Husband’s latest cake. This year’s theme was Bakugan. You know, those little plastic balls that get rolled onto magnetic cards that then trigger all these little spring-loaded arms, legs, and horns to explode out of them.
This is Spin Dragonoid all folded up. But Husband designed it so that when you blow out the candles, color-coordinated marzipan appendages shoot out of the cake in three dimensions like a pop-up book. Unfortunately, my camera ran out of charge right at that moment, so you’ll have to take my word for it.
Take that, Neighborhood Dads!