Thank You for the Cupcake and the Fire Hazard

“Happy 2nd birthday, Kristen!” someone said, setting down a present on the table in front of me.

I looked up to my older sister, my twin who had arrived six years earlier. She canted her head at me, whispering loudly, “You’re supposed to say thank you.”

Fascinating. A freshly-minted toddler of 2 years such as myself discovered so many new and interesting things each and every day—especially on the days that it was one’s birthday.

“Thank you!” I declared, tilting my chin up, feeling rather proud of this new thing I had just learned. For some reason or another, however, the adult who had originally told me “Happy birthday” simply laughed loudly and ruffled my already perpetually-mussed red hair. I scrunched my nose up at their impertinence, but my anger drained away completely the moment my mother set a plate in front of me—a plate that was laden with the most delectable-looking pink cupcake I had ever seen in my two years of life.

My eyes stretched wide, eating it up visually before I quickly reached for it. My mother was faster, to my swift and utter disappointment.

“We have to sing first, sweet girl.”

I nodded, biting my lip. We sing to food—obviously, I ought to have guessed. Food needed music. Even cupcakes. Especially pink cupcakes that were precisely like my favorite book of colors. I wondered if they had pink ice cream like it too—the book did—cupcakes and ice cream. I liked ice cream.

“Alright everybody, let’s sing to Kristen!” my mother said, rallying the troops. Everybody in the room turned their attention to me, gathering around the table I was seated at, although my own attention was still very much affixed to the seemingly lucent pink dessert that was fairly begging me to take a huge bite out of it. I felt positively certain that this pink cupcake would be the best thing I had ever eaten.

Instead, I watched with a mix of horror and fascination as my older brother reached over and sank a candle into my cupcake. Then with a strike of a match, he set it on fire—he set my pink cupcake on fire!

I looked to my sister again, my ever-constant fount of wisdom, but she seemed a bit distracted, as did everybody else in the room. They opened their mouths in unison, inhaling huge amounts of air.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” they bellowed.

“Thank you!” I promptly responded, my voice high-pitched and polite; I knew exactly what to do now when somebody told me “Happy birthday.”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” they tried again, smiling. My mother patted me on the shoulder.

Perhaps they hadn’t heard me the first time. This surely was an odd call-and-response, but who was I to question any of it?

“Thank you!” I repeated more firmly, grinning widely, baring my few teeth as I looked up at my sister, who had curiously begun to laugh at me.

“Happy biiiiirrrrrrrrrrth-day, dear Kriiiiiiisssteeen!”

“THANK YOU!” I nearly yelled, my voice a fair bit squeakier than the rest of my family could pull off. Bubbly laughs now suffused the room, although that didn’t seem to deter any of my family from their present course of telling me the same thing over and over again. I supposed, perhaps, that I had misunderstood my older sister’s initial instructions on how to properly receive the statement “Happy birthday.” All of this happened in a matter of moments, my eyes narrowing just ever so slightly until they once again snagged on my pink cupcake, marked now with its own little dancing flame that wavered in curious little ripples above my confection.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU” my family chorused once more, shouting the loudest they had yet.

“THANK YOU!” I pronounced, wondering if this would be the last time, seeing how my family as one dissolved into a bout of cheers and clapping.

“Now you blow it out, sweet girl,” my mother said eagerly, pointing at my cupcake. She picked it up and held it closer to my mouth.

I leaned over, my will having been utterly trampled by this whole long exchange. I unhinged my jaw and savagely took a large bite out of my pink cupcake. It was delicious, and I leaned back to savor the sugary mouthful.

“HER HAIR’S ON FIRE!” my mother shouted, blowing out my candle for me, and frantically fanning at my head.

My sister began to yell, even as I leaned in for my second bite of the cupcake. “Someone get a cup of water!”

I didn't even notice as they dipped the ends of my already-messy hair into some water, steam curling up. My older brother started to complain about the bad smell. None of this I noticed as I reached for my pink cupcake with my hands this time.

I had been right. The pink cupcake was, in most undeniable fact, positively the best thing I had ever eaten.

NOTE: I don’t remember my second birthday (who does?), however, I’ve seen the home-video, and have been regaled numerous times of the venture by my parents and older siblings.