Calvin Toulaine’s eighth birthday party had begun with the typical celebration fare. A gaggle of the neighborhood children ran through the yard around the bounce house set up by Mr. Toulaine. A table with modest refreshments was arranged by Mrs. Toulaine just inside the back door, with a secretive supply of beer and wine in the garage for the parents. The Toulaine’s dog, Frankfurter, sat patiently near the grill where hot dogs sizzled over the flame. Between the grill and the bouce house sat a table with an assortment of gifts, all but one with their appropriate tags. All but one wrapped in colorful paper or bags, the last a dull grey wooden thing.

Calvin ordered his audience into the bounce house, and the children gleefully filed in until they could barely wiggle their elbows.

“Jump!” Calvin commanded.

The bouce house heaved as two dozen children jumped nearly in unison. A long stuttering groan let out as it settled back into the ground. Mr. Toulaine’s eyes widened.

“What are you _doing?_” He yelled.

A soft hiss hit his ears over the grill.

“Alright, outta the bouncy castle,” then under his breath he added, “there goes the god damn deposit.”

Calvin et al shuffled out as the inflatable slowly became less so. The adults assembled hot dogs and beckoned the children to sit and eat. The birthday boy eyed the table of his presents as the procession moved past.

“Can I open my presents now?”

“No, Calvin, after lunch,” said Mr. Toulaine, “you know the drill.”

“_Please_, Dad?” Calvin tried his best to sound endearing. He failed.

“No, I’m almost done here on the grill,” Mr. Toulaine pointed the spatula at Calvin, “and besides, your mother will want pictures. So sit down and eat your dogs.”

As he moved the last sausage from the grill to the disposable tin, Frankfurter jumped up Mr. Toulaine’s leg. He let out a yelp, and pulled away from the mutt. As he shuffled his feet, his knees bumped into the legs of the grill and tipped it over. Coals spilled into the grass as Mr. Toulaine fought down his swears. He lightly kicked the dog away and went inside to put the food down.

As he went, he yelled to the children, “stay away from that! I’m grabbing an extinguisher!”

The children squealed and laughed at the sight. They rarely had the pleasure of witnessing an adult commit such a blunder. In the commotion, Calvin furtively inched towards the pile of presents. He felt his eyes drawn to the small grey box. He wondered who could have done such a horrible job at wrapping. He clawed his nails to find the best place to open it, and pulled.

When Mr. Toulaine came back outside, he found a quiet yard. Not empty, as the clothes of the children were strewn about the grass and tables. Frankfurter’s blue collar laid on the grass near the grill, too. He stared, stammering with the extinguisher in his hand as the coals lit the wrapping on fire.