It’s my birthday today. I am officially two. Here’s a report on my birthday party, which was on Saturday. We ran around in a field. We had cake. Nice people gave me presents. That’s about it really, but you can look at the pictures.
I like to read and should mention a few of my favorite new books that I got as gifts. ‘Duck in a Truck’ has a duck, a truck, a sheep in a jeep, a goat in a boat, and a frog who appears to be without transport. If you know the story at all, the moral of it is never help a duck who is stuck in his truck, because he will drive off, leaving you in the muck. If I were to think hard about this, I’d say it’s a parable of backstabbing in the boardroom, but I am not going to think too hard about it, because it involves a duck, and after reading this book I will never trust a duck again, particularly not a corporate duck.
My other new favorite book is ‘The Happy Man and the Dump Truck,’ which surprisingly is about a happy man and his dump truck. It was followed by the little-known sequel ‘The Crabby Man in His Pickup,’ which did not sell as nearly as well. ‘Harry the Dirty Dog,’ is also good, and has convinced me not to run off into the city by myself. ‘The Runaway Bunny,’ on the other hand, makes running away as well as shape shifting quite attractive. I also received a shirt with a tiger on it, a set of stacking cups, a puzzle, some big Legos, but I don’t need to inventory it all here as it will all appear in my mother’s Facebook feed this week.
I’m being told that my opening paragraph suggests a certain flippancy about my party. I should acknowlege the massive preparation that went into it, and the high degree of cooperation between my parents that it required. My daddy, who does not like being told what to do, was told what to do to get ready for the party. My mommy, who is still insecure about her baking skills, baked a wonderful cake – her second for me, as she did one last year, too. She got these floaty things I call babloons, ordered pizza and salad, got party favors for the other kids that my father forgot to give out, and even had fruit and flowers on the table. Thanks, mommy! You did a good job. Catch you next year for number three.