11 : Happy 60
When we left St. Louis that morning, the air was thick and muggy as usual. We had a three and a half hour drive to Kansas City ahead of us, Francis behind the wheel, and a busted-up air conditioner in the old Honda Fit.
Uncle Balthasar had just turned 60, and most of us could make it out west for the celebration. My three boys stayed home for another birthday party – August is a busy month – but I managed to join the rest of the posse.
An hour in, I brought out the Reese’s minis. But not quietly enough to avoid Francis’ food-mongering eye in the rearview mirror. He passed back an empty hand for a fill-up.
It was a little after two o’clock when we pulled into the outskirts of KC.
“Wow. Feels like fall,” Carrie-Bri noted, as we rolled down the windows.
57% humidity will do that for you.
The saltwater pool was full at Uncle Balthasar’s. All Puck’s and Yali’s second cousins splashed around in the human wave machine of my older cousin, Bristol.
In true Snicketts-girl form, the four of us sisters clustered together under a large umbrella with bottles of IBC root beer and watched the show.
Eventually, all male cousins (first and second), including Blessing’s husband – they were recently returned from Australia – ranging in ages from 3 to 40, ended up in the pool playing a form of high-powered pool ball. Not so much the three year-old.
After burgers and hot dogs, there was cake.
“We fit all 60 candles on that thing,” Aunt Tuuli laughed, walking back out to the patio.
Later, as Uncle Balthasar surveyed the blaze, which took about five minutes to light, he encouraged them to hurry before the wax melted.
“Well,” he concluded, “I guess chocolate already has wax in it anyway, so it’s okay.”
Right before he puffed out all 60 with about two blasts of air, he contemplated the results of his birthday wish. Then with a grin at Aunt Tuuli he said, “But, honey! You’re still here!”
There was some talk about family genes and history, Uncle Balthasar’s Tesla with the recently installed Ludicrous package. A few gifts from the family. And then it was time to go.
Somehow, even after all that athleticism in the pool that afternoon, Francis was able to keep his eyes open on the drive home. I think it was ten-thirty by the time I walked back through the door at the Silverspoon’s.