Ever since I can remember, my family have practised the fine art of Unbirthday Presents.
For each child who has a birthday, all siblings receive a small token of the household’s appreciation too.
Unbirthday Presents vanquish the tantrums of those fine young people who feel that, while the correct date has not yet arrived, it should by rights be their birthday too.
But they have the far more positive effect of causing all participants under 10 to look forward with warm appreciation to the birthday of a sibling.
Yesterday it was the birthday of one of the princesses: my pretty picture-book nieces who live just down the road with their small but definite four-year old brother, Al.
We turned up at the party to pay our respects to the little princess. The children had been to see a birthday film – Brave – and Al was nowhere to be seen.
“He got a bit scared,” his mother confided.
It appears the mother in the film turns into a bear and she has her fiercer moments. “She did go raaaaaaah!” Al told his mother disconsolately.
He sat convalescing in the sitting room with his favourite television programme, and did not make an appearance for the scrumptious banquet which included bacon crunchy crisps and strawberries dipped in Green and Black’s white chocolate.
There is one thing which can rouse Al from doldrums such as this, and that is Presents.
Grandma bustled into the kitchen with a big bag of packages wrapped in silver paper.
Al eyed his tubular parcel with speculative approval.
All thoughts of roaring bears vanished. This sparkly bundle was a most promising shape. With help he managed to remove all packaging to reveal a carefully researched Marks and Spencer’s sponge gun.
Satisfyingly long and chunky, it is essentially a huge water syringe. Dip the end in the water and pull out the stopper at the other end: and hey presto. A water syringe with a gratifying range of quite far away.
“No!” yelled my sister,”not over the fence, Al!”
The new acquisition held a substantial amount of water. An unsuspecting neighbour walking in their garden next door risked a drenching. I pottered outside.
“Al, I said, “we keep all our gun water in THIS garden.”
He considered this.
“Why?”
“Because you might splosh someone on the head.”
That made sense. He adjusted his aim and turned his gun affably on the household collie.
I scrabbled for the right words to protect the dog from next door’s grisly fate. “Al, can you hit the flowers? Try the yellow one. Now the red ones. And the purple ones right over there in the corner.”
Smugly I watched as Al conducted target practice.
But the dog was not safe for long. Shooting flowers holds extremely limited charm for four-year old boys. It’s not naughty enough.
And then the penny dropped: the dog loved the water. The dog was chasing the water. This was a ready-made, cyclical game in which Al could get up to no mischief whatsoever. The ancient team of boy and dog had once more united in a happy union.
I strolled inside to the other grownups and claimed my cup of tea. For Al was safe. The dog was safe. The neighbours were safe.
From my seat next to the window I watched in a kind of slow-motion as Al turned towards the house and spied his sisters and their twittering friends, clearly audible, planning a fashion show from the wide open upstairs window.
A wicked light appeared in Al’s eye. That window was Quite Far Away.
He took aim.
He fired.
Just when you think you have sewn up the loopholes, Al will always find another.
Kate Shrewsday 
Al is the epitome of “boyness” 😉
I do like the idea of unbirthday presents. I tend to do that for my great-nieces
It works a treat, Sidey.
it does, having something of their own kills the jealousy
The unbirthday present is an excellent solution. There’s always problems with our daughter’s children when one is having a birthday and the other isn’t. I just fear the escalation in price, with increasing age. When you give one of them a helicopter for her birthday, the other would have to have at least an expensive sports car. That’s probably Granny Mittal’s problem:)
I know. These things can get expensive. We make it a very little thing…though Al’s was quite big…
Great fun for the dog, my sympathy to the twittering girls.
Little brothers are an ever present trial, Cindy 🙂
Has he tried water bombs yet, from upstairs windows? ( 😉 )
Boys do like their water, don’t they. I used to say if they got me wet i wouldn’t be able to prepare the next meal. It usually kept me safe.
Felix has done – Al never. Erk. The very thought strikes fear into my soul.
I loved reading this – ah I remember those days of four year olds – haha!
Complicated days, Julie 🙂
Always the opportunist! A neighbourhood child has something similar. He stopped in the middle of the junction opposite to fill his weapon from a puddle. Causing all the turning traffic to have to wait (impatiently). 😉
I laughed out loud, IE 😀 You can’t have road rage at a preschooler!
He was probably 8. Driving instructor was trying to. 😉
Girls, especially sisters, are irresistible to boys with water of any sort. It falls into the category of natural physics. Newton had nothing on Big Al.
Have you ever read the Just William books, Lou? Classic demonstrations of your theory of natural physics. http://just-william.net/richmal-crompton.php
I have not read them and just returned form your link, quite interesting, I’ll have to check further.
I think they’d make you laugh…
That’s a nice practice you have got going there. A good way to get children excited. Al as always a thunderstorm.
You have him summed up, there, Jas: but then, you have a small whirlwind of your own!
I am familiar with the physics Kate, grew up with a younger brother! I thought boys were peskiest at that age till my grandsons turned five….they were of course, just being boys 🙂 Needless to say the daughter doesn’t agree.
We had Unbirthday Presents when I was a kid, though there were only two of us, so it was easy enough.
And who would give Al a water-gun? Do they not read this blog?
Al must be a trial to the princesses, but I do enjoy your tales of him. Probably because I have no boys 🙂
Oh, I did laugh at this.
A participating dog isn’t enough fun. You need something that squeaks and squeals, not so? You should have foreseen that.
How successful was his aim?
Ah, Al. I love him. When I was small, I never found a bit of water projectile I wasn’t willing to hurl at somebody, the more unsuspecting the better.
Such a lovely birthday, unbirthday story today! That dog is definitely man’s best friend, I loved that he began to join in the play with Al. What a sweet dog!!
You already know I love this little guy! I taught pre-K for years, so I’m well tuned to 4 year old little boys. Somehow I was always the teacher assigned the boys who were just a bit mischievous. I am sure it’s because I simply adored the way their minds work. I am also certain that if grandma gave Al a water gun she was quite aware he was going to employ the most creative methods to keep the rest of you alert and attentive. All eyes on Al! What a delightful story! Such a great dog to have as sidekick to a four year old adventurer! 🙂 Debra
Your sense of comedic timing is wonderful 🙂 That last bit had me laughing so hard! The unbirthday gift is a great idea
My only problem with this story is that there was no photo of Al with the gleam in his eye, looking up at the window. Although I’m pretty sure I can imagine it fairly well.
Oh, funny, Kate, and once again reminding me of my cousin, Louie, and his penchant for the garden hose; his mother’s, ours, and the neighbors. Poor Mrs. Lunachek, sitting in her chair, watching the cars go back was a victim. So was the neighbors’ newly remodeled kitchen. It seems the copper pots and pans on the wall, all glistening, were too much a temptation . . .
Oh, my! With a pool like that, Al will have a steady supply of ammo. 😀
Erk….
Dangling somewhere on the little arrow connected to the symbol representing the male gender rides a tiny satchel of extra stategy powder. I’m positive about this, Kate. My brother’s satchel was endlessly filled. I could not outwit him.
😀 I think you speak the truth, Amy!
I think it also works to mischievous Al’s advantage to be the runt of the litter. When my pal, Martini Max, was 8, and his sister, Dottie P., was 4, Max distracted Dottie from her beloved doll baby buggy long enough to unfasten all four wheels. She’s been exacting revenge on him for this prank for 43 years.
That is really Machiavellian, Lameadventures. But I think Machiavelli should appear in all little boys’ job descriptions.
Boys will be boys! I always give unbirthday presents 🙂
They do make sense, don’t they?
What a nice idea!
Dear Kate, once a psychic told me that I’d been “a nice little girl” all my life–I was about 60 at the time–and that I needed to practice being “naughty” for a while. I think that with Al as my mentor, I could have pulled this off! Peace
LOL! Love this post, Kate… it brings my ‘little’ brother vividly to mind. Four and a half years younger than my sister and me, he ambushed plenty of our games too 😀
Boys will be boys, Naomi 🙂 Nice to hear from you! Hope those dogs are fine!
I suspect Al may well rule the world one day, for him opportunity lies around each corner 😀
That Y chromosome does come with some built in mischief, doesn’t it? My boys have some plastic fake poo that for a while kept mysteriously finding its way onto my pillow. 🙂
This is so funny. I love that!
The unbirthday present is an interesting idea. I only had one child, but I can imagine it would be helpful on a birthday!
An irrestible target, a mischievous boy …. a deadly storm of humor. Great fun, Kate.
We always did Unbirthdays as well!
And well, Al can come and harass my dogs with his sponge gun any day. I think Felix would heartily approve.