Chocolate Frosted, Rainbow Sprinkled Donuts
We had a family tradition when I was growing up around birthdays and donuts. Every birthday morning in our house, there were donuts for breakfast. They were freshly picked up as soon as the local donut shop opened; brought home by my dad on three of four birthdays each year. On my dad’s birthday, my mom went and picked up the donuts.
At least that’s how I remember it. The donuts were already home by the time I woke up, so maybe my mom made more early morning donut shop runs than I know. It’s just that my dad still enjoys going to pick up donuts, so I imagine it’s been the same for thirty years.
But the tradition wasn’t so much that there would be fresh donuts for breakfast. We had one of those annoying electronic birthday candles that played the tune of happy birthday. I don’t remember how you got the song to start. I just remember that the little candle could really project. Like there was a megaphone hidden in there.
Maybe the candles weren’t really as loud as I remember. But who knows, maybe they were. Maybe a singing birthday candle just sounds amplified in the morning quiet of pre-dawn. Sound seems to travel further when the world is still and everyone else is asleep.
I remember wondering if we would wake the neighbors on birthday mornings. When it wasn’t my birthday, I wondered how the birthday person could possibly still be asleep when the music began to play. Sometimes the candle played the melody of happy birthday two or three times before the sleepy family member finally rolled over and opened their eyes.
Once my dad was home with the donuts, he would wake the other two family members not born on this particular day, some number of years before. The three awake family members would put a chocolate frosted, rainbow sprinkled donut on a small plate and stick the singing birthday candle into the icing. Someone would grab the matches.
Those three family members would quietly creep into the dark bedroom of the birthday person. They’d stand at the foot of the bed, light the candle, and switch on the happy birthday melody. Then, they’d wait. Happy birthday filled the room, playing on repeat while the groggy birthday person woke up. They’d sit up, rubbing their eyes and look at the rest of their family members.
It wasn’t until the birthday person was sitting up that the singing would begin. Happy birthday sang once through, accompanied by the annoying, melodic singing candle. Then the how o-old are you verse, counting up through the years to their age. It wasn’t until they’d blown out their candle that the electronic happy birthday was turned off by whoever was holding the plate.
After blowing out the candle and some brief, pleasant birthday exchanges and hugs, the pre-dawn activities would resume. My dad would leave for work. My mom would stay up to get ready for work and the rest of the morning. More than likely, my sister and I would go back to sleep for another hour or two. The plate carrying the birthday donut and candle would sit on the kitchen counter until the birthday person was ready to eat it.
I don’t actually like donuts all that much. Every once in a while I crave a bite or two of their sweet doughy goodness. Mostly though, I could do without ever eating them. I don’t even think I liked donuts much as a teenager. But, I would have been crushed if I didn’t get the chocolate frosted, rainbow sprinkled birthday experience every year growing up.
Maybe this next part is obvious, but maybe not. I would have been more crushed if I didn’t get to stand in the dark in a slightly creepy way at the foot of my parents or sister’s bed all those times too. While that obnoxious candle shouted happy birthday at them. Those three-quarters of birthday memories are some of my favorite memories from growing up. Because it was never about the donuts.
