Hello tiny humans!
Now that your mothers are gone, let
me introduce myself. I am Dionysus, god of wine, inspirer of ritual
madness and ecstasy, also known as Bacchus and the Liberator. I am the
patron deity of agriculture and the theater. My divine mission is to
usher forth the beautiful music of the aulos so as to bring an end to care and
And, little Bobby Paxton, to make
your party for turning four super-duper fun!
For starters let's review the list
of libations offered at this mini bacchanalia. Little Bobby, please tell
me that is a fine heady and robust merlot in those cups and not cranberry juice
cocktail. How can we expect to strip ourselves of all of our social
influences and inhibitions without a glorious liberty-freeing vintage?
Excuse me, smallish woman, what is
Yes, Margaret, while I appreciate
your predilection toward fulfilling one's primal need to consume that which
pleases you, little Bobby's mother demanded that I keep you "little beasts"
away from the birthday cake. There is a line, Margaret, between unbridled
hedonism and just plain old gluttony. And I must say from the size of
your girth I would guess gluttony is a demon with which you probably wrestle
What? No, I don't know how to
make balloon animals. I am, however, prepared to produce a small retinue
of my Maenads to feed us, by hand, juicy red grapes.
No, I do not know how to walk like a
robot and chase you around the room. And a true celebration does not
involve one getting "pantsed" and honking one's red nose. We
should simply just lounge around while drinking...
Margaret, please stop your
tears. Your loud crying is beginning to upset the other revelers here.
Why is that boy under the table and
sucking his thumb? Bobby, calling him a "stupid baby" is not
helping. Go pull him out from under there. Margaret, please don't
call out for your mother. Don't you know that mothers are a significant
impediment in life? I should know, my mother was a mere mortal.
While the daughter of a king, she was not a god, like my father Zeus.
I've never lived that down up at Olympus. Plus moms can put quite the
damper on a good debauchery-filled party.
Yes, that is leopard skin I am
wearing. No, I did not kill the leopard with my bare-hands. Yes, I
know that Leopards live in the jungle. Listen, enough with the
questions! And will all of you diminutive kids stop crying and get out
from under the table! Where's Margaret? Oh great, here come the
mothers! Little Bobby, hide my wineskin of Riunite under the couch.
Listen, let's just eat the damn cake, I'll grab my paycheck, and then I'm out
You kids are impossible!