On My 10th Birthday I Wore Leather Pants

I did. I swear. They were red faux leather. They were my ‘Red, it’s my 10th birthday party, I am the birthday girl faux leather pants!’

On the morning of my 10th birthday I woke up on fire! (I mean I had red leather pants, of course I was on fire!) My dad was the master of ceremonies and the house felt festive; soon I would have a large gaggle of friends over for games, movies, pizza and cake. My chest was bursting! Double digits – I couldn’t wait to be ten and rock my new threads!

Soon the driveway filled up and the good times began to roll. 

There was lots of running around my house in a circle; I am sure I ran the fastest!

There was a movie in my basement; I am sure it was the best movie anyone had ever seen.

There was pizza; I am sure it was the best pizza Ferrante’s ever made ever.

Then there was cake; the sweetest, prettiest and yummiest of confection.

I made my wish and blew out the flames hovering gloriously over the numbers one and zero. Immediately thereafter I told my father I wanted the biggest piece with the “J” on it. My dad took a deep breath, looked at me and quietly said, in his I have had just about enough, voice – “Your guests will get cake first and then it is your turn.”

The abrupt lack of wind deflated my sails quite a bit, and the sweat that began to drip from my hot head ran slowly down my back and created a tiny puddle in the seat of my waterproof pants. I had a game of statue maker going on with myself as I sat in paralysis watching all my buddies shove fantastic pieces of high fructose corn syrup in their faces shrieking with glee as the vanilla ice cream only perfected the masterpiece on their plates. When it was my turn my dad slid a big piece of cake with the letter J on my plate, kissed my head and gave me a wink. He had the best wink in the world by the way, and I will always be convinced the 007 character was based off of my father. 

We parents have to tread a delicate line between building the courage and confidence we want to see in our children and what happens when we have gone too far with the endearments. We want our kids to be proud and sure of themselves, bold and brilliant, but we do not want them to poof up like a pompous peacock. 

I learned two very important things on my 10th birthday; one, never spill Hawaiian punch on your red, faux leather pants because it may take a week to get them off; two, no one likes a braggart!

Next week I am turning 45. For some reason the memory of my 10th birthday keeps popping up. Is it because I am a little freaked out to be in my mid 40’s? Is it because I will always miss that wink? It definitely has to do with both of those things, but I have decided that what I really need to do is buy some leather red pants.  

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