My husband hates being in a spotlight. He happily diverts the attention to me when he can, since I don't mind at all. But on his birthday, there's no getting around it: it's all about him.
He chose a mexican restaurant for his second celebration of this 33rd birthday. He would have enjoyed a quiet meal with my parents (as quiet as can be with two children under three), without any fanfare or festivities.
So when they came charging out of the kitchen with a team of highly festive and brightly costumed servers, singing, chanting, and carrying a brownie with a sparkler... well, he glared at me. But I assure you: I had nothing to do with it. I know him well, and I would never arrange for this kind of parade. Nonetheless, here they were, surrounding our table, ready to sing.
Our server leaned in to Robb and said, "Hey, what's your name??"
Robb muttered, "My name is Robb."
And just like that, the waiter announced to the entire dining room: "Hey, everybody! Today is BOB's Birthday!! Let's sing Happy Birthday to Bob! Ready? Happy Birthday Bob on Three! One, Two, Three!"
The only thing worse than a restaurant staff that sings aloud is one who sings the whole song with the wrong name. And maybe the only thing worse than THAT is a wife who thinks the whole scene is so hysterical that she can't sop laughing.
To make things even worse for Robb (and even funnier to me), my dad chimed in. "Woohoo! Yay, Bob! Happy Birthday, Bob! Ol'e, Bob!! We love Bob!"
By the end, Tucker was even chanting Bob's name. (I'm pretty sure he thought we were singing to a tomato...he's a big fan of Bob and Larry.)
Robb just sat quietly, glaring at me, trying to disappear. And everyone around him chanted his name... or a version of it.
And I was losing my mascara, pouring down my face, as I laughed and laughed and laughed. The silent laugh, the kind you can't hear or understand because I am so close to delirium.
For good measure, we wrote Bob's name on the box that carried his leftover brownie. (Sparkler not included.) But we wouldn't want it to get eaten by anyone else... that treat belongs to Bob.
That is seriously one of the funniest things I have ever experienced, in relation to his birthday. I loved it. He has yet to laugh as hard as I have, so I'll keep laughing for him. It was so, so funny.
(It was also funny when Robb turned 30, and the bakery misunderstood the instructions; his mom brought a cake that said, Happy Birthday Ross. It was too funny to ask them to fix it. I mean, how hard is his name?? But that story pales in comparison to this one... I'm still laughing, right here, right now. Hours later.)
Happy birthday, Bob. Hysterical.