|
|
|
Baby can’t eat, read ornate birthday cake Infant lacks emotional range to appreciate parents’ effort by Chanice Jan, Associate Editor
|
 | “I shat myself, but it feels surprisingly
pleasant.” |
ST. PAUL, MN — Randall and Kacie Masterson threw their 1-year-old daughter Riley an elaborate birthday party last week, an event the infant would have fondly remembered if she were able to form complex episodic memories.
The Mastersons spared no expense for their "wittle baby-waybee's" first "birfday-wirfday," decorating their whole house in pink streamers and pink balloons that would have been Riley's favorite if she were old enough to actively prefer objects of a certain color.
Twelve neighborhood infants and toddlers of varying ages, who would have been Riley's friends if she were capable of forming socio-emotional bonds with peers, attended the party, bringing along plenty of colorfully-wrapped gifts and even more bacteria-ridden slobber.
Served at the party were tiny toothpick sandwiches that Riley would have enjoyed if they weren't a choking hazard, honey graham crackers she would have loved if honey were not likely to carry infant botulism, and a clown that would have made her laugh had she not cried hysterically at the sight of a painted, green-haired monster.
"Everything here today is so our little Riley-poo can look back and remember having the best first birthday ever," said Kacie Masterson. "Everything's for her. The purpose of this party is definitely not an excuse for me and Randall to wear even bigger shit-eating grins than usual and watch parents of older, less adorable kids twitch with envy."
Sandra Waterhouse, a neighbor of the Mastersons, disagrees.
"What a waste. That hyperactive girl can't even sit still long enough to watch her parents make a big show of blowing out one stupid candle. Looks like the Ritalin train will be stopping for this one in elementary school."
Waterhouse continued: "When I threw my Cooper his first birthday, we sang 'Happy Birthday' in four different harmonic minor keys so we could expose him to classical music early on. He sat silent the whole time, like a good baby double-strapped into a high chair should."
The centerpiece of Riley's party was a three-tiered five-layer cake with a moist strawberry marble texture that she did not have enough teeth to chew, and pink frosting roses that she lacked the stomach power to digest.
The cake also featured a message written in ornate cursive in icing, "Happy Birthday to You, Riley Elizabeth-Annemarie, Our Precious Little Princess, Love Forever and Ever, Mommie and Dadders," that Riley could neither read nor eat.
"How many candles is that, Riley-roo?" Kacie cooed to her daughter. Unable to count, Riley tried to wriggle out of her taffeta dress while blowing a snot bubble.
"It's one, Riley-ree, because you're one! Yes you are, wittlewoodooboodoo."
Kacie and Randall eagerly unwrapped their daughter's presents while the infant sat on the carpet and attempted to eat her party hat.
"A miniature soccer set! Terrific! Riley can be the next Mia Hamm!" Randall Masterson predicted of his daughter's athletic ability once she is able to manipulate objects with her feet.
As the party closed, the Mastersons took turns moving their child's arm in a waving motion to guests as they left.
"Say bye-bye!" said Randall, as Riley spit up her strained birthday peas. |
 |
| « Back to the April/May 2005 issue |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
