Ewan’s Blog AGE 3 – Chapter 3 of My Birthday Week Celebration McDonalds February 2018
Hi Ewan here. Yes my birthday marathon continues.
Lightning McQueen had left and everyone was indoors putting on their coats. Great, I thought. They are all going home and I will be left to play with Horsey and any other half decent presents I have been given. But, no!
“Come on,” said Mum, “Put on your shoes and coat. We are all off to McDonalds for a Big Birthday Tea.”
Much as I love McDonalds, did I really want to go with all these hangers on at that particular moment of my life and birthday? In a word, no. I wanted to stay home and play with Horsey. So I objected which caused a major scene.
I looked at my poor old Mum’s face, she so wanted to go to McDonald’s, so I relented, specially for my Mum you understand. Anyway I would just take Horsey with me. He’d like his first Big Mac.
But Dad said Horsey must stay home. I was devastated. He would be lonely by himself and he’s not used to our house and he’ll be scared. But sometimes there is just no arguing with Dad. Kicking and screaming, I decided to give in as I was carried out to the car without Horsey. One of my presents had been lots of mini Lightning McQueen cars and a transporter juggernaut to put them in. I took that with me instead. That showed Dad he can stuff Horsey. Look at this face. Does it care that I can’t take Horsey? Of course not.
I noticed Brother Rory had avoided Dad’s car and gone with Granny in her car. I suspect that was because he expected trouble from Dad’s car as it was sulking from all the attention Lightning McQueen got and the rude comments Lightning McQueen made to him. Dad’s car is a big powerful Ford and doesn’t take kindly to criticism or rude remarks. He’ll be very jumpy.
I hitched a lift with Mamma and Grandad. Beggars cannot be choosers.
Even Mum and Dad could not face the wrath of Dad’s car and went in Mum’s car. I urged Mamma to drive fast and recklessly to catch them up and overtake them, but she was too slow.
We took so long getting to McDonalds that when we did finally arrive all my cousins and Aunts and Uncles and Grannies and Mums and Dads had got there before me and taken all the best seats at a big long table. Excuse me it’s only my birthday tea I thought. But I had to sit on the old people’s table with Mamma and Grandad. You would have thought somebody else could have looked after Mamma and Grandad and at least given me a break for my birthday.
Good old Cousin George, came to sit with me and helped look after Mamma and Grandad. What a cosy fun filled night it was, the four of us huddled around a table at Bulwell McDonalds. I could think of worse places to be of a Saturday tea time, but loads more better ones.
I realised Dad had been right not to bring Horsey here because Horsey would have gone away with totally the wrong impression that I lived a dull and sad life.
Me and George did all the usual McDonalds activities: ate fries, ate ice cream, ate chick nuggets, and drank cool clear water whilst hiding under the table and looking out of the window. We played with our free toy. Why are the free toys always crap, is it because Dad is so mean he won’t pay for a good one?
With bellies full all the rest of my family now could afford time to take an interest in me. Is it back to Ewan’s place for birthday cake? They said.
If it was left to me I’d say “No, you didn’t save me a place so no cake.”
But Mum’s not as vindictive as me and said they can all come back.
I stuck with Mamma and Grandad. They may be old. They may be senile. Their senior moments may be perpetual. But they stick by me. (More from automatic pilot than true dedication me thinks.)
Back home Mum brought out my football with lit candles on it. I wondered if she’d finally lost it, until I blew the lighted candles out and realised it was only half a football and it was made of cake.
I felt like the Little Red Hen when everyone was wanting some cake. I wanted to say: “No! I will eat it all myself”. But I didn’t I shared it.
I just wanted everyone gone so that I could play with my Horsey and my other presents. Like the patchwork teddy from Granny. Every different colour of wool she has used was taken from someone’s cardigan without them knowing. And so it tells a story, the Patchwork Story Bear.
After the cake, finally, the last of my cousins, Uncles, aunts and grandparents left. At last. I ran to Horsey, but a voice rang out across the lounge.
“Ewan, come on, up these stairs, time for bed. Brother Rory has already gone to bed and is sleeping.” Said Mum, “You can play with Horsey tomorrow.”
Bugger, bugger, bugger. I hate birthdays.
Night Night, Ewan.