A Sad Day In Candy Land
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We threw Elijah his 4th birthday party yesterday, though his actual birthday isn't until Tuesday. He dressed as Bhotman, as previously mentioned here. This made him stand out at a party where four people were dressed as Batman, including me. Regina made the costume as Elijah designed it, adding a special touch on the back, writing "The B is silent" below Bhotman.
Regina also prepared, at Elijah's request, a cake bearing the likeness of a Hungry Hungry Hippo. It's a family tradition that Regina makes Elijah's birthday cake. The first year, it was Frankenstein cupcakes, the second year, a bat cake, and last year, her legendary shark cake. This year, Elijah wanted a green hippo, but Reg couldn't find any green food coloring that didn't contain poison. So instead, she made an organic orange hippo, with googly M&M eyes and candy-corn teeth. She wrote "Happy Birthday!" on the cake with black icing.
"No!" Elijah said, when he saw the lettering. "I don't want it to say that."
We were prepared to get annoyed.
"I want it to say, 'I love you, friends.'"
AWWWWWWWWW!
Even by the standards of his age, Elijah seems to be all about his friends, to the point where he's named all his stuffed animals after them. He's extraordinarily affectionate and considerate toward his actual friends (as opposed to their animal proxies), except when he's pulling their hair or throwing stuff at them. His behavior, as always, is inconsistent.
But during his birthday celebration, it was perfect. The party proceeded without tantrum, though we did have one worrisome moment when Elijah spilt some juice on his shorts. I waited for the explosion, and then the moment passed. When the party ended, Elijah handed out hugs like candy, and everyone left with an awesome Halloween gift bag that included a bubble-blowing robot and a skeleton rattle.
As we pulled into the driveway after the party, he exclaimed "I'm four now!"
Shit, I thought. I guess you are.
The toy mix is starting to seem a lot more boyish. Suddenly, there's a Playmobil zoo, and a treehouse, and an airplane. A couple of Transformers appear to have worked their way into the rotation. Elijah and I are also beating each other up with large inflatable "Socker Boppers" that we put over our fists. And now, thanks to Nana, we have Candy Land.
I don't exactly remember what Candy Land looked like when I was a kid, but these days, the board is kind of creepy, bearing the likenesses of D-list cereal-box-style cartoon personae like Lord Licorice and Grandma Nutt. The world of childhood branding is full of these kinds of characters, ones that never quite caught on; they exist in a permanent purgatory, not totally discarded but not noticed, either. In that way, Candy Land is a perfect metaphor for L.A. Or for my own life. Or both.
It took about 20 seconds for Elijah to learn Candy Land, and when he won his first-ever game, he exulted.
"We're going to play Candy Land all day," he said.
It was ten AM.
"I hope not," I said.
Victory and defeat at Candy Land are completely arbitrary. I could very easily have gotten swept. But instead, I won game two. Elijah met this with resignation.
"Now I won one and you won one," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"I'll win the next one."
"It's impossible to tell."
I didn't intend to beat him at the next game, but it's hard to fudge the results of Candy Land. He was in the lead for most of the game, and then he drew a gumdrop and it was all over. As with the initial successes of almost all expansion franchises, Elijah's early win had been a mirage. His defeat became inevitable, and he began to blubber. Then grief set in, and soon he'd upended the board.
"Why did I lose?" he asked.
"The world is cruel, son," I replied.
"OK," he said. "I understand."
"I'm sorry I beat you."
"I'm sorry I lost."
And thus four began with disappointment for my son, but that soon dissolved when we went next door to dig up worms with the neighbor girl. Still, I think I'm going to forestall teaching chess to the boy. I don't know if he can handle that level of disappointment. Then again, I'm very, very bad at chess, even worse than I am at poker. Maybe I should stick with Candy Land. Sadly, it might be my best game.