Last week, for my birthday festivus, the kids decided to put on a show for me. Colleen was the M.C. (her job was to introduce the Megan and Alex, run the music, and tell jokes during costume changes), Megan was the dancer, and Alex was the strange little boy on stage who does all sorts of odd little things.
As I was splayed out on the sofa, Colleen began by welcoming me to the big show. Then she brought out her Gigantic Book of Jokes, which - no joke - probably weighed as much as she did. She balanced this mightily overwhelming tome on her knee and announced that she would start things off with a few jokes.
She flipped through a few pages. “Here’s one. I don’t understand it, but maybe you’ll think it’s funny.”
It was Megan’s turn next, and she appeared from stage-left in her dancing clothes, flittering into the room like a ballerina. The music to which she had choreographed her dance was a kid’s song about spaghetti, and as she pranced around the room, arms waving (and a few somersaults here and there), I noticed Alex peering around the corner from the hallway. I waved him in, and he jumped into the room.
As Megan danced, Alex put a hat on the floor in front of him, which was filled with the shredded remains of an old straw hat. Then he began mixing the straw with a stick, grinning the entire time. So there was Megan, dancing away, Alex mixing the pretend spaghetti and bouncing his head to the music, and Colleen with her finger on the power button, itching to stop the music so she could tell more inscrutable jokes.
As much as it would be nifty to have a pet monkey that speaks French or a spaceship that has an FTL drive, big jokes, pasta dancing, and noodle mixing are truly the secret ingredients for a perfect birthday celebration.
