It's Her Party, He Can Cry If He Wants To

J-Fed has found himself in quite a pickle this time.

You see, all year long it’s been his ambition to enter a go-cart race. Despite work being slow, his marriage falling apart and moving out on his own, his desire to race has been steadfast, no pun intended. It’s good to see he has his priorities straight.

Unfortunately, it’s been one missed opportunity after another for poor J-Fed. The first race fell upon my birthday. Needless to say, although we were no longer together, he still felt it mandatory to attend my celebration. I guess he wanted to see me licking my wounds on my special day. Or maybe he’s just a sucker for free food or a home-cooked meal. I’ll never really know.

Then May came and went. I can’t remember what the reason was that month. June? He was overseas at work. July? He was broke and thinking of selling off the go-carts. But then came August, the last competition of the year. J-Fed was determined to race at all costs. And then I dropped the bomb on him, baby baby.

You see, the final race of the year falls on the day that daughter is celebrating her sixth birthday. Like the dutiful dad, J-Fed maintained that he would not race if it meant missing her party. Me thinks he doth protest too much, and today proved it.

When he came to pick up daughter, I reminded him that her party was in just one week. He grinned slyly and asked daughter what she wanted to do for her birthday.

“Would you like to have your birthday at the track?” he beamed.

Daughter stared at him cautiously and thought about it for a moment.

“Would there be food?” she replied.

“Oh yes,” he promised. “Anything you’d like. We can have a barbecue, and I’ll bring up the generator and run fans.”