Sinclair woke up with a guffaw. Today was his birthday! He was going to have a lot of fun today. First, he would dress up in a helmet and a pair of cycling shorts. Then, he would run downstairs to see if the salon was decorated and ready for the party. They had invited twenty-three of his closest friends. When everyone arrived, they would spend eight hours playing fun games like charades and checkers. His mom was planning to make plenty of roast Cornish game hen and beans for everyone. Sinclair would try to blow out all twenty-six candles on the grey and polka dotted cake. While the guests were eating their cake, Sinclair would be opening his gifts. Maybe the first package would contain a rag! He hoped it would be a beige rag. His friend Simeon had said he would give him a Frisbee, and his wife always gave him cool stuff like the painting she gave him last year. Sinclair could hardly wait!
He glanced out the window and was surprised to see that a dust storm was on its way. Hopefully, that wouldn't deter anyone from coming. He looked in his closet for his helmet. It wasn't there. Uh oh. It was still dirty from his day at the pond. He would have to wear a pair of boxer shorts instead. He didn't really care, as long as he could still wear his pair of cycling shorts.
He pranced downstairs and went into the kitchen. It smelled like cinnamon rolls. His mom was standing there with a candy thermometer in her hand. "Happy Birthday Son!" she said with a frown.
"Hi Mommy!" Sinclair replied boisterously. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making the roast Cornish game hen," she replied. "I decided to make it with extra pork rinds. Hope that's okay with you."
"I guess so," Sinclair replied repeatedly. "Do we have the beans ready?"
"I'm going to wait until seven o'clock to start that," his mother replied madly. "It only has to braise for four minutes."
"Okay," Sinclair replied curiously. "I'm gonna go to the salon."
"First, young man, you need to have some breakfast. I've got some lime sherbet in the skillet for you."
"Can't I just take a peek at the salon 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," Sinclair responded, as he sat down to his lime sherbet. "Let's hang lots of green balloons and cover the pool table and the mattress with brown crepe paper."
"That's fine," said his mother craftily. "The paper plates and napkins have pictures of your favorite Tv star, Sydmo Grayheels. Set the table with them, and make sure everyone has a potato masher."
"Oh well," Sinclair responded. "I'm done, can I get started with the decorating now?"
"I think you inhaled your food," said Mother with a hiccup. "Go on, I'll be there in a few minutes."