Tuesday was Shawn's birthday. He is a remarkable man celebrating an unremarkable age and, unfortunately, it did not take priority in my mind until it was too late. I arrived on the day with absolutely nothing planned. My mom watched the kids that day, but since I was at work, it afforded me no extra time, beyond stopping briefly at the grocery store on the way home for hamburger -- in a predominately vegetarian household, hamburger is noted. But its not steak. Its still just hamburger; a small token to distract from the 88 cent pasta smothered in canned tomato sauce. Truly, it was a woeful birthday feast. When I showed up to pick up the kids, my mom handed me a homemade birthday cake, decorated by the children, and said, "wish Shawn a Happy Birthday for us!" She saved me from trying to put birthday candles in left over Halloween candy.
After the cake -- chocolate with chocolate icing -- Nevin was nutso. To keep him busy and maintain my annoy-o-meter in the green, I challenged him to run around the kitchen island 10 times while I did the dishes. He stopped for a rest at 43. He called it a day at 59.
All in all, it worked out. I do not think it will go down in history as the best party he has ever had, but Scarlett, who can be shy, sang Happy Birthday for the first time, and he was beaming. He said her jumble-worded, out of tune version of the song was the best he's ever heard - and you could tell he meant it.