Lies I Tell My Children-The Birthday Dog

It was a quiet evening, well before wedding bells and baby bottles, back in the day when we were living in sin and still sat next to one another on the couch. We were probably watching some VH-1 train wreck reality show...Pimpin' Preachers...Too Hot for Teacher...

"Did you have a Birthday Dog?" David spoke above the heartbreaking Sarah Mclachlan ASPCA
commercial.

"A What?"

"You know. A Birthday Dog. A dog that brought you a stuffed dog on your birthday?"

I. Laughed. Out. Loud. Right there. In his face. I laughed at him.

The light in his eyes faded and his cheeks grew red as he continued, "My mom did that every year. Got me a stuffed dog from The Birthday Dog and would leave it my room from him."

Hahahahaha...Through my laughter I struggled to respond. "NO Honey. That. Isn't a thing. NO ONE had a Birthday Dog."

He was really crushed. I should have been sensitive. He had gone his whole life, 30 years, wondering if anyone else had heard "The Legend of the Birthday Dog" (I just coined that phrase. Props to me!) He had never felt comfortable enough to ask someone. He had opened himself up to me and made himself vulnerable. There he sat there, 30 years old, embarrassed as I laughed at him. I will say it...I'm a bitch! I am still laughing.

Fast forward an unknown number of years to the birth of our first born. There in my postpartum room my MIL (mother in law) came bouncing in with...you guessed it...A Birthday Dog! This thing was gaint! Huge! Like 'you won the carnival game' big. David was thrilled. I rolled my eyes and shot my mother knowing looks from across the room..."Damned Stupid Birthday Dog!" I kept my mouth shut. Colver was David's child too and that ridiculous tradition was important to him, even it was the stupidest thing I had ever heard of.

Years passed. Each year David did "The Birthday Dog" thing. He didn't make a big deal of it. My disdain for it faded into indifference. It seemed inconsequential...Until Colver turned 4. Somehow Colver's understanding of the Birthday Dog had developed a little more mythical lure than David's childhood tradition. Colver made it clear that he understood that The Birthday Dog came and turned him 4. Yes. Apparently, The Birthday Dog is not a lame dog that leaves a lame stuffed dog for you on your birthday for no reason, but instead he exists in the same realm as Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the South Pole Trolls.  He has purpose. He is magical. He alone posses the ability to TURN children their next age. Why didn't I think of that!? My kid is SO cool!

I wish I could say I had gotten my comeuppance, but there's more...

It was a dark cloudy miserable day (I actually have no idea what the weather was but if it wasn't a dark cloudy miserable day then it should have been.) It was a dark cloudy miserable day and Colver's behavior was, well, dark and miserable. Fit pitching. Blatant defiance. 4 year oldness!  David and I spanked. We put Colver in timeout. We tried bribery! We had taken away EVERY SINGLE FIRETRUCK! ALL of it ineffective. Grasping to regain control, David and I were left with one parenting trick...LIE! Yes. Lying and bribery are both valid forms of parenting.

Colver was face down in the floor pitching the mother of all fits. David walked toward Colver with his cell phone in hand...bo bo bo bo bo bo bo..."Hello...Birthday Dog..."

"DADDY! NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"  Colver's tiny legs carried him as fast as they could, following David into the kitchen. "DADDY! NO! NO NO! DONT! DADDY!" Colver cries fell on deaf ears. It was too late. David was already explaining the dire situation to The Birthday Dog. The Birthday Dog had recently come and turned Colver 4, but his behavior was terrible. Maybe the Birthday Dog had come too early? Maybe Colver wasn't quite ready to be 4 yet? Maybe the Birthday Dog should come change Colver back to a 3 year old and give him more time to grow? "DADDY PLEASE! DON'T!!! DADDY NO!" Colver begging the whole time. It was so pitiful. I struggled to keep a straight face.

"Uh huh...I see...That sounds excellent!" David concluded his call with The Birthday Dog. He took our sobbing child into his arms and explained The Birthday Dog already had some appointments that evening and wouldn't be able to make it that night for an age reversal and would come the next night instead, giving Colver time to prove that he was indeed ready to be a 4 year old and that this was all a big misunderstanding. A bad day of sorts. UGH! Why didn't I think of that!? 

The rest of the day was serene...It was like night and day! Colver behavior was exemplary. His room was pristine. Every toy in its rightful place. There were no more tears. There were 'Yes ma'ams' and 'No sirs'. Since that day, The Birthday Dog has been responsible for getting Colver to eat peas, to clean his room, to take a shower, to go to sleep, to go to sleep in his own bed, to do homework, to generally act like a human being with manners and a conscious instead of crazed zombie raised by wolves.

Thus, I am forced to concede my anti-birthday dog platform in the face of my husband's moment of parenting brilliance. David's smirk of satisfaction at the legimatication of his contribution to our children's childhood is burned into my mind.


DAMNED STUPID BIRTHDAY DOG!