They Say It’s My Birthday.

Hi internet people!  Noah here.

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So today, I’m this thing that they call two.

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And apparently, I’m supposed to be happy about it.

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But here’s the thing: I believe that I’ve been treated unfairly.

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Birthdays are a big deal.  Just ask The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy who insists that her own is to be celebrated for an entire month.

smh.

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But then it comes time for my birthday, and she basically throws me an Afterthought Party.

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I get it, I get it.  I was born six days before the busiest day of the Mommy Year.

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But Poor Family Planning on your part does not constitute a subpar Birthday Celebration on my part.

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What?  Don’t believe That Woman could throw a pitiful party?

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First of all.  She bought my birthday supplies at PARTY CITY rather than making them with her own loving hands.

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Did Party City birth me?  No.  Does Party City have a vested interest in my level of lifelong success?  No.  Should Party City get the HIGHEST OF HONORS of being allowed to craft my Birthday Party? 

NO.

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Second of all.  I didn’t even get a tablecloth.

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A TABLECLOTH!! How much are those cheap paper wastes of trees anyway?? Like, a dollar??

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But yet.  She had the money to buy me this??

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HAS SHE NO CONCEPT OF HOW HUMILIATING SUCH A THING CAN BE??

And then there was the issue of the very, very storebought cake.

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Sure, they said it tasted fabulous and all, but I wouldn’t know.  Because I refused to eat a single bite of it.  On Principle.

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It was white.  With blue and green squirts on it.  And it said “Happy Birthday Noah.”

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The minute I laid eyes on the thing, I was flabbergasted at her lack of affection for me.

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How many hours has That Woman spent on Pinterest this year? 

AND SHE STILL THINKS THAT WAS ACCEPTABLE?!?!

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I could have decorated a better cake with my vast collection of Snot Rockets.

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It just wasn’t fair.  The Woman has all the time in the world to make Memes out of me, but no time to make me a six-foot-tall sculpted Lightning McQueen like I deserve.

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She just made that into a meme, didn’t she?

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So wrong.  So, SO wrong.

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During the party, I took a minute to vent to my cousin Andi about the injustices served to me.

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She was great, offering me a comforting hug,

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And a missed kiss.

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But then she got all exhortative on me, pouring out a sippyload of advice about looking inside myself for the answers to my problems.

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So I told her that her diaper was full of it.

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And judging by the smell of the place, we both knew I was right.

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Present time definitely helped my frame of mind,

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But after I’d opened everything, The Servants rolled in my present from them.  I didn’t even notice at first,

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But when I saw it, I have to admit: I was shocked by their generosity.

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And, as I rode my new wheels around the room, I realized that Andi had been right all along.

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And, just like a woman, she knew it too.

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So I guess you didn’t come here to listen to me whine.  You came here to see an anthology of my fabulous face over this year, right?

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Personally, I think the best way you can celebrate my birthday is to read all of my guest posts.  But because I’m here to please and not self-promote, I present to you: my face.

Here I am at my birthday last year.  Apparently not so offended by the cake offering.

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Then January…

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February…

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March…

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April…

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May…

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June…

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July…

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August…

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September…

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October…

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November…

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And now we’re back around to now.  Still cute after all these months, aren’t I?

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So.  Feel free to celebrate my birthday today in the manner you deem most appropriate.  Just don’t do it with storebought cake.

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Or you, too, might have to be schooled by a cousin.

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