A Special Birthday Party

Patrick looked around at his friends.  Maybe this time it would be different.  Maybe because Zach was a boy, and the last party had been for Amanda.  Maybe they didn't let boys stay if it was a girl's party.  Besides, he'd been in pre-school for six whole months now.  Practically ready for kindergarten.  Maybe that was the difference.

Sally was poking Jeremy in the stomach, and he was punching her in the arm, but they were both giggling.  Still, that wasn't 'best behavior.'  Not party manners.  Patrick sat up a little straighter and watched Zach reach for a brightly wrapped package from the pile on the floor.

"This one's from Stevie," said Zach's mom. 

Zach ripped the red and blue wrapping paper.  Patrick held his breath.  Didn't Zach know you were supposed to be careful with the paper?  Would that spoil the party?  Patrick looked at Zach's mom. She was smiling.  He blew out his breath.

"Thanks, Stevie!  This is cool!"  Zach grinned and set down the remote controlled car and reached into the stack for another present. 

Would Zach think Patrick's gift was cool, too?  Maybe only the ones who gave cool presents got to stay.  He studied Zach's mom again.  Did she choose, or did Zach?  Maybe they both thought the present had to be cool. 

Zach picked up Patrick's gift, and Patrick felt his heart thumping in his chest.  He wiped his hands on his good dark blue pants and watched Zach  pull the green ribbon off the package. 

Amanda tugged at his shirt sleeve.  "That's yours, isn't it?  What did you get him?"

"Shhh.  You're not supposed to tell.  Presents are a surprise."  He took his eyes off Zach for an instant to glare at her.

"You're no fun at all," said Amanda.  Her blonde ponytail almost hit him in the eyes when she turned her head away.

Patrick's heart pounded even faster.  No fun.  Was that the secret?  "I am so!"  He remembered at the last minute not to stick his tongue out at her.  He forced a huge grin onto his face and looked back at Zach. 

"X-men action figures.  Wow!  Thanks, Patrick." 

Patrick's grin was genuine now.  A 'wow' should be good enough.  He relaxed and watched as Zach tore through the rest of his gifts.  Only when Zach was almost through did Patrick notice Zach's mom talking to him as he opened each gift.  He strained to hear what she was saying. 

"Remember, say something nice," she whispered before Zach opened each gift.  He blinked.  Maybe his 'wow' wasn't good enough, after all. 

They moved to the patio for ice cream and cake.  He put his napkin in his lap, and was very careful not to spill his punch the way Sally had.  Even though Zach’s mother had said it was okay, Patrick was sure you wouldn’t get picked if you spilled all over the tablecloth. 

He sang his very best "Happy Birthday" when they brought in the cake.  It had a picture of a spaceship on top, and six blue candles were burning where the rocket fire would be.  Patrick had learned about the candles.  One for each year, and one to grow on.  Maybe he'd ask for blue candles on his cake this year.  He'd wondered about the ice cream, too. 

"Not everyone makes homemade ice cream, Patrick," his mom had said.  He missed taking his turn at cranking the handle, but he liked the store-bought ice cream almost as much.  Sometimes it was chocolate.  Mom always made vanilla for his birthday. 

This time it was Neapolitan.  Three flavors all together.  Patrick saved the chocolate strip for last.  The cake had banana filling in it, but Patrick knew it would be bad manners not to finish.  He took a bite of cake, and then one of chocolate ice cream to make the banana taste go away.  When his plate was empty, he looked at Sammie and saw him wipe a big smear of icing off his mouth using his hand.  Patrick had remembered to wipe his mouth with his napkin, but Sammie didn’t seem to know about that rule. 

After cake and ice cream, the children raced out to the back yard to play.  Patrick waited his turn patiently for each game, careful not to step in the flower beds.  "Way to go, Pete!  Good one, Sammie!  Nice try, Mandy!" he shouted to his friends.  Maybe being a good sport was the answer. 

"All right, everybody.  Time for a race," Zach's mom said.  "Line up here."

Everyone rushed over to the edge of the lawn. 

Zach's mom smiled at the group.  "When I say, 'go,' I want you to run to the finish line."  She pointed across the yard.

Patrick stood between Zach and Pete and looked at the garden hose at the far end of the grass where Zach's dad waved.

"Ready, set, go!" Zach's mom shouted.

Patrick ran as fast as his dress shoes would let him on the slippery grass.  He jumped across the garden hose, and felt Zach's dad tap his shoulder and raise his arm. 

"Here's our winner!" he said and handed him a small package wrapped in blue tissue paper.

Patrick jumped up and down, he was so happy.  But he didn't forget to say, "Good race," to the other kids.  He pulled the tissue paper off of his prize and found a bottle of bubbles inside.  "Thanks," he said to Zach's parents.  He twisted the top off the bottle and let everyone have a turn blowing bubbles that floated into the sky.

One by one, parents arrived to pick up their children.  Patrick watched as Jeremy left.  He knew he shouldn't have punched Sally.  Sally left next.  Well, she’d spilled her punch, hadn’t she?  Soon, only he, Pete and Amanda were left.  He felt himself getting excited. Maybe this would be the time.  And then he saw her.

"Patrick.  I'm here.  Time to go," his mom said.  His tummy felt tight.  He looked at Zach's mom, hoping she'd say something.  Tell his mom that he could stay.  That he'd been good enough. 

"You're son is so well behaved, Liz.  I don't know how you do it.  A perfect gentleman," he heard her say.  He perked up.  Maybe that would be enough. 

"Thanks.  We try.  He's still new at these birthday parties, though.  Did he have a good time?"

"He seemed to be having a wonderful time.  I'll talk to you next week."

"Right.  Come on Patrick.  Let's go.  Say, 'thank you' to Mrs. Richards."

"Thank you," Patrick mumbled before following his mom out to the car.  He buckled his seat belt and stared out the window.

"What's the matter, sweetie," his mom asked when they pulled into his driveway.  "You look so down.  Didn't you have fun?" 

Patrick tried not to cry, but a tear rolled down his cheek.  "I tried so hard, Mom.  Why wasn't I picked?  This is the fourth time."

"Picked for what?  Did they play a game and not choose you for a team?"  She opened the door to the house.

"No.  The games were fun.   I even won a race.  It was for the late stuff.  You know.  Afterwards."

"Come here.  Let's sit on the couch and you can tell me all about it."  She pulled Patrick into her lap and he rested his head against her chest. 

Patrick played with one of the buttons on her sweater.  “I was good.  I had a good present.  I sang all the songs, and I was a good sport.  But they still didn't invite me to stay for the fireworks.  That's the best part of a birthday.  And nobody's ever let me stay." 

He felt his mom squeeze him tight.  He leaned back against her, and the familiar way she smelled made his tummy feel better.  She rubbed his hair and then moved him away so she could wipe the tears from his face. 

"Oh, you poor thing.  I had no idea.  Listen, honey.  You didn't miss the fireworks.  Your birthday is a very, very special day.  Not just for you, but for everyone in our entire country.  Nobody else has fireworks on their birthday, unless they're born on the Fourth of July, just like you were.  The party was all over.  Nobody stayed." 

"Really?"

"Really and truly.  Now.  Tell me about Zach's party.  Did he like your present?"

"Oh, yeah.  He said 'Wow' and everything."  He jumped off his mother's lap.  "I'm going to go play upstairs now."  Halfway up the stairs, he turned and said, "On my birthday, can some of my friends stay for fireworks, though?"

"They sure can."

Patrick grinned and raced to his room.