Dylan woke up with an air kiss. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a pair of earmuffs and a romper. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the parlor was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited one of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend four hours playing fun games like baseball and dodge ball. His mom was planning to make plenty of spaghetti and fried eggs for everyone. Dylan would try to blow out all thirty-five candles on the green and fuchsia cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Dylan would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a gun! He hoped it would be an immense gun. His friend Siggy had said he would give him a calling card, and his grandma always gave him cool stuff like the crate she gave him last year. Dylan could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a rainstorm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his pair of earmuffs. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the treetop. He would have to wear a fig leaf instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his romper.
He scooted downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like ammonia. His mom was standing there with a candy thermometer in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a curtsey.
"Hi Mommy!" Dylan replied miserably. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the spaghetti," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra frankfurters. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Dylan replied diligently. "Do we have the fried eggs ready?"
"I'm going to wait until eight o'clock to start that," his mother replied quietly. "It only has to arrange for fourteen minutes."
"Okay," Dylan replied reluctantly. "I'm gonna go to the parlor."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some falafel in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the parlor first?" he begged.
"It looks just like it always does," his mother replied. "Remember, I'm depending on you to help with the decorating."
"Oh yeah," Dylan responded, as he sat down to his falafel. "Let's hang lots of teal balloons and cover the crib and the bathtub with red crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother hopefully. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Lucille Manley. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a sharp knife."
"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to," Dylan responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Mother with a caress. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."