The Birthday Cake Hat
Nobody knows how or when the birthday cake hat showed up—the velvety fabric, embroidered lettering, and cattywampus candles with felt flames defying gravity—we just know it wouldn’t be a birthday without it. The hat’s appearance became as common as our other birthday traditions: sitting at the head of the table for dinner and opening presents in the piano room. But, it held a higher significance than the rest. So much so, that we’d bring it to restaurants and pack it in our suitcases when birthdays fell on vacations. There’s irony in the fact that we don’t remember the hat’s birthday, yet it always celebrates ours, making its humorous appearance out of the dusty coat closet throughout the year. Nobody was (or is) excused from wearing it: Mom, Dad, Sister, Grandma and Grandpa, even the dogs, too. We donned the hat on friends who entered our house near their special day.
If there’s one thing about my family, it’s that we know how to throw a celebration. Grandma and Grandpa owned a party store, so they knew all of the best supplies. Balloons were filled with ease and ribbons were curled to perfection. Mom’s attention to detail made sure everything ran smoothly. Dad was the resident photographer (and brought the infectious energy). At some point, the hat turned into a prank. Dad would try to capture you wearing it while you were still sleeping (which we always were because he’s an early riser). We’d act embarrassed, but it’s no secret that we loved wearing that kitschy thing—the Velcro snagged your hair and the fabric filled your roots with static, mimicking the hat’s candles— but we loved it ever so.
It’s been four years since I’ve celebrated my birthday with my family, so I haven’t gotten to wear the hat in quite some time. But this weekend, my dad is in town, and you can count on the fact that he traveled 2,356 miles with that silly, little hat just to place it on my 23-year-old head tomorrow morning (and I can’t wait).
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