Happy Birthday to Us

Well if you haven’t heard already, it’s Korked Bats’ fourth birthday.

I am super hopeful that Korked Bats has a better 4th birthday than I did.

Let me explain.

My birthday is the 4th of July. My Golden Birthday. Or so I thought. Here I was. Super cute. Super happy because up until this point in my life, I believed that the neighbors and entire city were celebrating me and my birth with fireworks. How important was I?

Not.

My mom decided that everyone would get a cookie bag for JUST SHOWING UP and guess what. I didn’t get a cookie bag because they were for my guests. Whatever. If I would have known that the cookies were going to my guests, I would have invited less guests. Fine. Probably no guests. I was 4 years old. I didn’t have any friends.

At four years old, I found out that I am terrible at playing most birthday games. I would even practice in secret over the next few years.

My mom had to have the talk with me. She could have let me go a few more years. It didn’t have to be this soon. She could have given me a book to read to spare both of our embarrassment. She explained to me that the fireworks were not in fact, for me. That I shared a birthday with America. Come on citizens of America. Isn’t everyday Independence Day? Isn’t it just another day that Hallmark created for us to spend money? Shouldn’t we make sure that America knows that we appreciate and support her all year round?

Anyway. I think I got some sweet white keds and some of those plastic Little Mermaid shoes and maybe my first big girl bike, but that’s not the point of this.

Happy Birthday Korked Bats. The fireworks aren’t for you. Neither are the cookies.

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This post is a part of our Ladies Room series for Korked Bats.

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