With apologies to everyone born at the start of the year – sorry, Mom! – January has to be the most boring month.

The days are short and often dreary, even when you live in the mostly sun-drenched desert. There’s the post-Christmas let down and the back-to-school brouhaha. Although indoor soccer’s starting next week, seven days is forEVER in kid time, leaving us with a gaping hole of nothing. Boredom and complaints about boredom, even amid a houseful of nearly new toys.

To make life more difficult for Boots, Big Guy is either playing at a friend’s or the friend is at our house most days. The latter is even worse, because they want nothing to do with the bothersome little brother until they need someone to be the bad guy in their Special Forces game.

What to do? Make something up, just like a friend and I used to when we’d walk into our favorite pub after work and order champagne for the flimsiest of reasons.

The guys are a little young for alcohol, so we douse the boredom with sugar instead.

Boots was in his usual state of “he’s leaving me” discombobulation yesterday as I dropped Big Guy off at his friend’s, so I asked him what he wanted to do.

“Nothing. There’s nothing to do that’s fun,” he pouted.

I was inclined to agree – curse you, January – but I instead asked him if he wanted to bake cookies.

“Can we bake a cake instead? A birthday cake?” ” he asked, knowing that birthday cakes always have more frosting. ” We need to have a birthday party.”

“Sure! Whose birthday is it?”

“It’s El’s,” he said, obviously remembering the bash we threw last winter for Big Guy’s Bear. “And it’s brother’s.”

“What kind of cake do they want?”

“A bear cake. No … a soldier cake. No … how about a soldier bear cake. But we have to finish it before brother gets home. It has to be a surprise.”

I was horrified to hear “OK” come out of my mouth. A decorated cake in two hours? This was certainly not going to be up to the standards of the day when I made wedding cakes.

We pulled it off – I think. The “bear” actually looked more like Peter Pan covered in icing fur, and we couldn’t find the party hats I’d saved from New Year’s and carefully packed in the event an emergency birthday party cropped  up.

It turns out it didn’t matter, because all you really need to make a party is a cake, candles and “Happy Birthday” sung with “cha-cha-chas.” Funny. That’s all I ever get for my birthday, too.

El was a bit put out because Big Guy got the first shot at the candles, so we had to relight them. “He said he doesn’t mind not having presents,” Boots said after El had whispered in his ear. “All he really wants for his birthday is kisses and hugs.”

We always have plenty of those around here. Along with the glow of candles planted in a pile of frosting to light up a dreary winter night.

Copyright 2010 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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