The Birthday Catastrophe

Soo… did anyone catch it?

The title of my return post on Wednesday actually said, "My Not-So-Grand Return (and Byday)." Even the fun graphic was yowling:

"Happy 'Byday' to Great King Henry!"

It was so obvious, I didn’t think anyone would miss it, unless you’re, like, really really dumb (which I hope you’re not).

So, did you ever wonder why I did it? What it meant?

Perhaps you did miss it, or chalked it down to an oversight or my usual dramatic flair.

It wasn't. Thank you very much. 

This was on purpose. Wanna know why? (Spoiler. I know you do.)

So, you see when I was like seven or eight years old, I was living my best Lagos state life (in Nigeria). And back then, I actually used to call birthdays “bydays.” Everyone did! Especially the kids in my primary school. 

Some even exaggerated it by calling it “baffday” (BTW, baff, means bath in our cool Nigerian English) because we had this ancient tradition (that began only God knows when) of pouring water on birthday celebrants. Gallons. Tanks. Oceans. Because, apparently, birth sounds like bath. Go figure.

Anyway, I was in Primary (Grade) 2, and we were happily (and confidently) singing the birthday song for our class teacher:

🎶

Happy byday to you,

Happy byday to you,

Happy byday, happy byday,

Happy byday to you!

🎶

When suddenly, this know-it-all nursery teacher from the next class burst in and basically went, *“What are you guys blundering? It’s birthday, not byday!”

Porrrrr!!!

That's was when we were rescued from that bad English. Very funny.

So yeah, that memory popped into my head again while I was making my post on Wednesday, and I just had to share it with you all. Right there. On my byday.

But speaking of birthdays…

Remember that post I made about pen names? (Nope, not refreshing your brains. Go read it yourself. Just tap here) I mentioned that my birthday has its own mini-drama, right? Something about my parents not knowing when exactly I was born?

And I know that those of you that actually kept up will be like, how come you're celebrating your byday yesterday? Are you bambolizing us?

Well, here’s the tea:

My mom says I was born on July 30th. My dad, however, is 100% convinced it was July 31st. Swears he remembers the next day being August 1st. Haha!

I didn’t even know this birthday confusion existed until my baptismal card (for the non-Christians: it’s a special record card you get when you’re baptized) decided to baptize itself one day. Yeah, actually soaked itself to pieces inside the bag it was kept in.

So we had to get a new one. And guess what we found in the Church's Big Book of record?

Birthday: July 31st.

Apparently, when they were filling the form, my parents nearly had a fight over the date. Maybe the Fourth Rokus, Fluxify, was scrambling their thoughts that day (totally expected).

Anyway, even after all that, I’ve stuck with July 30th. I mean, that’s the one I’ve known my whole life. Okay, well, it could also be because I already told everyone and I’m too lazy to start denouncing it now. So live with it.

Oh, and in case you were wondering about my birthday on Wednesday? It was absolutely bonkers (in the boring way). I actually spent it manning my mom’s little shop.

Hmph.

Anyway! Over to you guys. Dredge up your memories and tell me:

👉 What’s one word you always mispronounce or misspell?

OR

👉 If there isn't one, because you're some sort of Albert Einstein, then tell me one thing people always get wrong about you.

And don’t even try to say “nothing.”

I repeat… Do. Not. 

Toodles!