The best day of his life
Every person celebrates their birthday once a year – our son's stuffed cat ninety times. Every two weeks, we stand in front of its bed and sing «Happy Birthday», while the mangy creature stares at us with its lifeless eyes, as if to say, «Please stop. This is humiliating for all of us.»
Of course, it's not about the cat. It's our son, who would love to have ninety birthdays a year. As his father and therefore the most authoritative person in the room (apart from the cat), I felt obliged to put my foot down: once a year is enough. Instead, I suggested throwing a party at our house with all his friends. The cat would never have allowed that.
«Friends» is a flexible term. So our son didn't just invite his best playmates, but all the children he knew. Plus their parents, unannounced baby siblings and tons of plastic gifts. Simply the perfect party if you have a large house with a spacious garden.
Well, unfortunately we don't have a large garden. We don't have a garden at all. Our flat only has a tiny balcony, which we kept closed on the day of the party to prevent the children from falling off it after seeing the table with the «healthy food».
Was it just as stressful for my parents, or is this ongoing burnout typical of our generation, for whom serenity is a form of failure?
Mississippi cake for the fourth time
The preparations were exhausting and almost ended our marriage. «If we can do this, we can do anything,» I shouted to my wife after failing to bake the Mississippi cake for the third time. (I've heard that three times is normal. After the fourth failed attempt, you have to see a psychiatrist.)
However, my wife was unable to answer as she had just fainted while inflating the balloon decorations. I would revive her as soon as I had finished drawing the treasure map.
How was it in the past, I suddenly wondered. We used to have parties with lots of guests back then. Was it just as stressful for my parents, or is this ongoing burnout typical of our generation, for whom serenity is a form of failure?
Children naturally perceive everything a little differently. At the time, my parents seemed like amiable shadows to me, waiting in a corner of the party like hotel bellboys or museum attendants. Is that a good sign? Perhaps the same applies to parents as to football referees: if you don't notice them, they've done a good job.
When our son is asked about his parents by a psychiatrist in thirty years' time, he should say: «My parents? I can't remember them at all.» Admittedly, this is a difficult undertaking – for an only child. In a small flat. With a balcony that is locked for safety reasons.
The Nano family
It is well known that the nuclear family is considered a breeding ground for madness. But we are even smaller than small. We are a nano-family. The only thing that helps is to invite loads of people over. Children that we did not conceive.
The party was a complete success. No one fell to their death, and only a few had to throw up. The children hated my cake, but the parents loved my gazpacho (or at least pretended to). And when our son was lying sleepily in bed at the end of the day, he said, «That was the best day of my life.» Strike! We were already halfway out the door when we heard his voice behind us: «Can we do this again next week?»
