birthday

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Ancient History

Well, there's no use beating around the bush any more. I'm 40, which means I'm officially old. From now on, my body will fail me more and more. My sight will be going. I'll start leaking fluids everywhere. The pipes will bust. The wiring will burn. In as far as that hasn't happened already.

We had a great party last Saturday. Mrs.B and I spent the whole Saturday afternoon trying to turn a bare hall into an inviting party place, and I must say we succeeded brilliantly (if I may say so myself). Amazing what a bunch of balloons, paper table cloths and masses of cheap Chinese lampoons and garlands can do.

We invited a whole bunch of people, some of which we hadn't seen for many years. But in the end only twenty-five or so of them turned up. Still we had lot of fun. It was nice seeing and talking to old friends, we had plenty to eat and to drink, and I honed my DJ skills for the first time in years. I must admit I was a bit rusty and although everyone said they loved the music, I didn't seem to get anyone on the dance floor. Not to worry, I am able to play music and dance, so I had a blast. And finally some people joined my. That's Thirty-somethings for you, they'll yap and gossip all night long instead of dancing the night away.

At least we 40-year-olds really know what fun is.

One

One yearOne year

Happy birthday little guy. Daddy loves you very much. I hope you will always remain the happy boy you are now. I hope you will grow up to be a fine little boy like your big brother.

And I hope you'll sleep all through the night from now on. Otherwise you may find yourself celebrating your second birthday in the nearest foster home. That's not a threat, you see, just some friendly fatherly advice.

Big raspberry kisses

Four Fingers

Today is Wolf's fourth birthday, so please allow me to get the following off my chest

Happy Birthday !!!

Imagine that, four years in a blink of an eye. Seems as if it was only yesterday when he peed all over me. Or that could have been Tyl. Anyway...

We celebrated his birthday yesterday, with all the young kids we could steal from my sister's and sisters-in-law. For good measure we invited the grandparents too, and threw in an uncle to run around the kids and do goofy things with them. We had a gastronomic kids' menu of spagheti and ice-cream for desert, and that was the only moment there was any peace and quiet for the whole afternoon.

So everyone had a blast, until they got tired and kids suddenly got hurt and started to cry and he took my toy from me and it's not my fault and she started it and that's mine and no it isn't give it back right this minute... Well, you get it, it was time for all to go home, get in bath and watch the tele for five minutes before bed time stories and night-night.

Total exhaustion, I tell you. I look forward to the moment when he careens off on his souped up motorbike with his friends and doesn't come back until five o'clock in the morning all boozed up. But that will be at least another four years from now.

 

Old Age

Today, we celebrate the fact that I'm one year closer to senility, incontenence, loss of hearing and gray hair. I'm already senile and I don't listen, so I guess I'm halfway there. And I'll probably loose all my hair before it even has the chance to turn gray. So one day soon I'll piss on my shoes in a public toilet and drop stone dead in the act.

As old people tend to spend more and more time napping, I got pijamas as a birthday present. Wolf and Mrs.B practised singing 'Happy birthday' for two weeks, but when the cake came out he refused to sing it.

We went to a child-friendly restaurant in Antwerp this Saturday. And indeed it was child friendly, but the food wasn't that great. I had pumpkin soup with partridge as a starter, but there was so much pepper in it that I didn't taste the fowl - although it didn't taste that foul (please forgive me for that piece of old git humour). Mrs.B had something with speculaas, but again the speculaas was overpowering.

We both ordered the 'saddle of hare with autumn vegetables'. The meat itself wasn't bad, just a tad too well done, but the vegetables were a bad choice. All in all, it wasn't exactly the kind of quality you'd expect for the price we paid, and in the end Wolf was so tired that he never got to play with the other kids in the play area.

 

As you can see I'm really getting the hang of this old-fart-grumbling thing. Give me another couple of years and they'll glue me to a chair behind a window of an old pensioners home before I'm fifty!

 

PS: if you really must know: 38

Flying High

The funfair was in town a couple of weeks ago. Not the big one, that's in August, but this one was perfect for little boys that have never been in a Merry-go-round before. We went to the fair for our third honeymoon anniversary - having a large portion of fries with a 'curryworst' (fricandelle) and a desert of 'smoutebollen' (kind of a sweet doughnut but without the whole in the middle), rather than a fancy candle-light diner.

Wolf had a blast, after stuffing his cheeks with fries from daddy and smoutebollen from mummy, he tried out the mini cars and the Merry-go-round. Here you see him taking off in a plane, which he could make go up and down by pushing a button. He tries every button in his reach, but that was the best button ever!

Luckily, all that turning around and flying up and down didn't make his dinner come out. And he even got a free ride! But then it was time to head home, and surprisingly we didn't have to tear his little fingers from the cars, planes and horses to make him come with us. He's such a good boy!

Most of the time...

Biannual Man

We celebrated Wolf’s second birthday this weekend. Two years ago, a fragile quiet little baby came into our life. It’s difficult to believe how fast he grew up to be an energetic toddler that's running around the house, that's learning the wrong words as soon as you accidentally utter them and who’s favourite hobby is to order his parents and the cats around.

Saturday – his actual birthday – we gave him a puzzle, but the real party was on Sunday. We’d invited his grandparents and godparents for a big barbecue. Mummy had bought enough meat to feed a herd of tyrannosaurs for a year or two and daddy slapped them on the grill, wearing his cowboy hat that went very well with the tepee that he’d set up at the end of the garden. And Wolf and mummy had spent the entire morning blowing up balloons and hanging them in the sun. Two hours later, the same sun had exploded almost half of the balloons. By the time all the guests were there, only four balloons survived. When the strawberries with whipped cream arrived (one kilo per guest plus one litre of whipped cream), our garden was the balloons’ version of the killing fields.

But it was loads of fun! And there were loads of gifts, although faulty communication led to two couples buying the same gift. But he got bicycles (plural, yes), a huge inflatable swimming pool, a Duplo horse riding centre (times two), a bedtime story book and loads of other loot.

Wolf and his nieces had a lot of fun; the sky was filled with screams of laughter, not in the least because the neighbours’ eldest daughter celebrated her birthday on the same day in the next garden. Needless to say, our party was the best party of the whole neighbourhood.

I was very glad that Monday was a holiday here, because I really needed an hour of rest before I went on the whole day to lay new drainpipes in the bathroom.

Hippy Barthday

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday tooo meeeeee...

Yes, that's right folks. I'm a year older, none the wiser and still a child at heart. Oh, who am I kidding, I'm getting old very fast. On the way between 30 and 40 I'm almost half way through, or 34 to be precise.

And if that was not depressing enough, I've 'celebrated' my birthday in Congo, very far away from my loved one. Boooohooohooooo! Snif!

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