Darin woke up with a stiff upper lip. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a stethoscope and a sport coat. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the bathroom was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited six of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend three hours playing fun games like red light green light and Monopoly. His dad was planning to make plenty of chicken pot pie and crumb cake for everyone. Darin would try to blow out all eight candles on the brown and black cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Darin would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a piggy bank! He hoped it would be an ordinary piggy bank. His friend Marvella had said she would give him a sponge, and his mother-in-law always gave him cool stuff like the bilge pump she gave him last year. Darin could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a pelting rainstorm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his stethoscope. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the meadow. He would have to wear a suit of armor instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his sport coat.
He crept downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like new mown hay. His dad was standing there with a Sham-Wow! in his hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" he said with a power fist.
"Hi Daddy!" Darin replied energetically. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the chicken pot pie," he replied. "I decided to make it with extra rice noodles. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Darin replied ruefully. "Do we have the crumb cake ready?"
"I'm going to wait until two o'clock to start that," his father replied firmly. "It only has to fry flightily in ancient skillet for eighty-three minutes."
"Okay," Darin replied sleepily. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some cinnamon toast in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the bathroom first?" he begged.
"It looks just like it always does," his father replied. "Remember, I'm depending on you to help with the decorating."
"Oh yeah," Darin responded, as he sat down to his cinnamon toast. "Let's hang lots of camouflage balloons and cover the rug and the four-poster bed with chocolate brown crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his father demurely. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite singer, Henrietta Bibbles. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a meat tenderizer."
"Of course," Darin responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Father with a kiss. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."