Pencrabs and Other Birthday Abnormalities

 

For my fifth birthday, I got two spankings. I know this because my dad recorded me on tape (there was a time before iPhones, children!) recounting the story to him. And I wasn't the least bit sad about it either. 

My parents took my sisters and me to a nearby pizza place called Picadilly Circus. When the waitress brought our pizza, she also brought me a balloon, which I refused to thank her for, so my dad promptly walked me out to the parking lot and spanked me. 

 

After supper, we went for ice cream and then to the park. My sisters raced up the steps to the slide and then zipped down it, while pokey little five-year-old me stood at the top of the slide and screamed (aka: demanded) that they come back to me. 

. . . 

So my dad promptly walked me to the van and spanked me. 

It was a banner first day in the life of five-year-old Adriane.  

Thankfully, my little girl fared better on her second birthday. 

She got to spend her special second day with some of her cousins, discussing her current favorites: pencrabs. 

For those of you not in the know, that's a rare hybrid of penguins and crabs. 

 

One of her favorite books for a long time was one about a penguin and a crab who take vacations to the other's respective part of the country. 

So when she recently started discussing pencrabs, it was clear her birthday needed to feature them as well.

While she largely failed to realize that her birthday was different from any other day, her sweet cousins played along and ate blue Jello "ice cubes," "chilly" (chili), and crab croissants.  They drew her pictures of crabs on their chalkboard wall and made balloon penguins to hang on her chair at the table. They even donned mini party hats to sing to her. 

She'll never be able to make it up to them. 

Her Uncle Awesome lead the whole group in singing happy birthday, while she shoveled ice cream in her mouth as fast as she could and barely stopped to look up or acknowledge that anyone else was even in the room.

 

To her credit, she did take a break from eating a cookie long enough to open a Little House on the Prairie treasury from her aunt with a matching prairie dress her grandma made her. No spankings, but short attention spans. 

Halfway through her bowl of chili, when she'd picked all the meat and cheese off her sandwich and left the croissant (WHOSE CHILD IS THIS, ANYWAY?!), she reached for me and said, "Mommy, hand?" 

 

Of course, my very grown-up and yet so very little two-year-old. Mom will always hold your hand. 

Even when you're five and sass the waitress. 

Maybe after a spanking. 

But even then. 

Happy birthday, G.