Stephen had lost all hope.
The party was still going. The bouncy house fiasco should have been the grand finale, the moment when people packed up, said their goodbyes, and let him breathe. But no. The chaos had only evolved.
Now, there was cake.
And with cake came more attention.
_ _ ♛ _ _
Stephen sat in his high chair, a bib strapped tightly around his neck like he was some kind of gladiator about to enter the arena. The cake—an absolute behemoth of a dessert—sat in front of him, complete with a single, flickering candle.
"Alright, birthday boy, make a wish!" someone cheered.
Stephen stared blankly at the candle. I wish to be free.
Mark leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "You gotta blow it out, Stevie. Like this—" He exaggeratedly huffed, nearly extinguishing it himself.
Stephen squinted at him. Blow it out? The concept was foreign to him. He had never been taught such a skill. He tried exhaling, but all that came out was a small, pitiful puff of air.
The flame flickered mockingly.
The crowd waited in eager anticipation.
Stephen exhaled again. Nothing.
Mark, unable to bear the embarrassment, leaned in and blew it out for him. The room erupted into applause.
Stephen sighed. He hated being the center of attention.
Then, to his horror, a slice of cake was placed in front of him.
"Go on, dig in!" someone encouraged.
Stephen frowned. He liked sweet things well enough, but something told him that smashing his hands into this cake would only make the adults more entertained.
Mark, being the unhelpful older brother he was, took matters into his own hands—literally.
With zero hesitation, he shoved Stephen's tiny hand into the cake, coating it in frosting and crumbs.
Stephen gasped.
The room cheered again. Cameras flashed. Adults clapped like seals.
Stephen glared at Mark, who had the audacity to look innocent.
Mark, you are a menace.
_ _ ♛ _ _
The nightmare continued. After cake came presents.
Stephen had no idea why people were so excited to watch him open gifts when Mark practically lunged at them first. His brother tore into the first one with reckless abandon, revealing a set of colorful building blocks.
"Stevie, look! You got blocks!" Mark said excitedly, as if Stephen wasn't perfectly aware of what blocks were.
Stephen poked at them unenthusiastically.
"Oh, come on, Stevie," Mark whined. "This is prime baby fun."
Stephen rolled his eyes—as much as a baby could—and stacked two blocks together.
Mark gasped like Stephen had just split an atom. "Mom! Dad! He's playing with them!"
Another round of cheers. More clapping.
Stephen dropped the blocks in defeat.
Just when he thought things were winding down, disaster struck again.
"Alright," Debbie announced, wiping cake from her hands. "Time for group pictures!"
Stephen's soul left his body.
Before he could process what was happening, he was lifted into the air and passed into the hands of a relative he barely recognized.
And then it began.
The photo session.
Stephen had never been held by so many different people in such a short span of time. He was passed from relative to relative, each one taking their turn smiling for the camera like they had won a prize at the fair.
Mark, of course, found it hilarious. "He looks like a grumpy old man," he giggled after each photo.
Stephen was a grumpy old man in spirit at this point.
Then came the worst moment.
Someone handed him to a stranger.
The woman cooed at him, bouncing him slightly. Stephen blinked. Who are you?
Panic settled in his tiny chest. He turned his head, searching for salvation. Where was Mark? Where was his mother? Why had he been abandoned to the wolves?
He did the only logical thing he could think of—he wailed.
Loudly.
Instantly, the room turned toward him.
"Oh no! Poor thing, he's overwhelmed!"
Overwhelmed? Lady, I am experiencing existential dread!
His mother finally swooped in and plucked him from the stranger's grasp. The moment he was back in her arms, he let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, nestling into her shoulder.
"There, there," she soothed. "It's okay."
It is NOT okay, woman! But Stephen, exhausted, simply nuzzled into her shirt.
_ _ ♛ _ _
After what felt like centuries, the party finally began to slow down. Guests started gathering their coats, parents corralled their sugar-high children, and the living room was left a mess of wrapping paper and half-eaten cake.
Stephen, emotionally exhausted, found solace in his mother's arms as she swayed him gently.
"See? That wasn't so bad," she murmured.
Stephen gave her a look. Mother. I have seen things.
Mark popped up beside them, grinning wide. "This was the best birthday ever! You did so good, Stevie!"
Stephen let out a long, dramatic sigh.
Mark giggled. "Don't worry. You won't have another birthday for a whole year!"
Stephen's eyes widened.
Oh no. It happens every year?!
As Mark skipped away happily, Stephen stared off into the distance, contemplating the horror of his new reality.
Meanwhile, Nolan stood near the back of the room, sipping his drink with an amused smirk.
Debbie nudged him. "You barely saved him this time."
Nolan chuckled. "He's gotta learn how to survive these things."
Debbie sighed. "You're awful."
"Strategic," Nolan corrected. "There's a difference."
Stephen, overhearing this, let out another exhausted sigh. I need a vacation.
Unfortunately, that was not an option for a one-year-old.
End of Chapter 10