What does one do when one is almost exactly two years and four months old and is very, very excited about the birthday of one of one’s most bestest friends, a birthday that is formally today, but which won’t be celebrated until Sunday? Why, one starts partying in advance, of course. Which means, one needs a party hat. And if one does not have a party hat with which to party, well, then, one must simply improvise with whatever one has on hand. Or bottom, as it were:
It’s clean, in case you were wondering. She’s pretty fastidious that way: dirty pants are immediately deposited, by pant-wearer, in the bathroom, regardless of whether the potty has been involved. Clean pants, well. They can end up anywhere. On any number of dolls, stuffed Muppets or plush phallic symbols. Or on one’s head. Which, really, is the most festive of all options, don’t you think?
Happy Birthday, Mister H. We loves you lots.
So far, participants include:
Moi
HRH Sweetney (she started it, so any and all cursing – or props for bravery – should be directed at her)
Dame OTJ
Mme. Breed ‘Em And Weep
Missus Mamalogues
Mrs. Flinger
Madame Izzy
Ms. MotherBumper