Birthday parties are fun in our family.
First, every party includes guns somehow. My friends always laughed at me because I invited them to my house to blow things up.
At my sweet 16, we scared everybody by shooting several pounds of tannerite. It’s harmless, but it makes a Big Bang.
And the food. We always cook it up big over a birthday.
Everyone can cook in this family, and everyone puts forth their best when it comes to celebrating the life of one of the clan.
Often the meal is some kind of grilled chicken or ribs with baked beans, potato salad and homemade bread. Otherwise, we grill up some hibachi like it’s our last meal.
Cake? No prob. If said birthday boy or girl wants a decorated cake, Tanya puts several hours of time and some flour into the mix and it’s settled. (But from-scratch red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing take less time and taste wonderful too.)
However, the best thing about our parties is the fact that we are together.
My favorite birthday was my 17th. No one came to my party but my family.
They set the table on the porch, complete with Tiki torches. Everyone dressed up.
They cooked my favorite Paraguay-style dinner of empanadas and chipa guazu.
We ate and laughed, and everyone shared their favorite things about me.
I’ll never forget it, and I’d never trade that experience.
The best thing about birthdays? Family.
The End.