“It’s BIRTHDAY WEEK!” husband-head squealed with delight, jumping up and down and clapping his hands. “You have to be nice to me and let me do anything I WANT!”

I looked over at husband-head, unsure whether he was actually turning 8 or 38. .

But birthdays have always been a big deal for husband-head – right up there with Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day.

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“Do you want me to make a choo-choo cake and invite all the neighborhood children over?” I suggested, trying to think of a fun party he would enjoy.

“No, my mother made me a choo-choo cake when I was 8,” husband-head recalled. “But when we came home from the amusement park, we found the dog on top of the table eating it. .”

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This was the same birthday husband-head’s father gave him a mini-bike, against his mother’s wishes, which husband-head promptly proceeded to crash. .

Husband-head and I actually met on his birthday years ago. I was bartending at a local restaurant and he had come in with 387 of his closest friends – all of whom decided to buy him a celebratory shot.

“Ummm . dude, you’re going to die if you drink all those,” I had warned him, looking at the shot glasses lined up along the bar.

“Nope, I’m going to marry you,” he said with a goofy grin, ten minutes after we met.

And his wish eventually came true, without even blowing out any candles. .

But I have always tried to do a litte something for husband-head on his birthday.

One year, I had a surprise Oktoberfest party. I bought husband-head a green Bavarian-style hat and decorated the house as a beer hall. My sister and I donned German dirndls and put large balloons in our bras, our hair in pigtails and carried trays of drinks among the guests like good little Oktoberfest bar maids.

“In heaven there is no BEER. . That’s why we drink it HERE!” the guests sang loudly while swinging their beer steins around to the oom-pah-pah music blaring on the stereo.

When husband-head arrived, he was very surprised – more at the size of my chest than the party.

“Wow, did you do that for ME?” he asked, not realizing that it was inflatable latex. “What a GREAT gift!”

It wasn’t until later in the evening when my left balloon had popped that he realized it was not a permanent situation. .

Actually, husband-head is pretty easy to buy gifts for.

“What do you think he’d like for his birthday?” a friend recently asked me, while we were shopping.

“Anything with Spongebob Squarepants,” I replied immediately, as we headed directly to the toy aisle to look for the yellow sea sponge cartoon character.

However, there is just one small problem with husband-head’s birthday. Being that he is four years younger than me, he never fails to bring up the fact that no matter how old he is turning, I am always older.

“Just think,” he said, thoughtfully. “You’re in your 40s, and I’m still in my 30s! And when you’re in your 50s, I’ll still be in my 40s! And when you’re in your 60s .”

“. You’ll be pushing up DAISIES!” I interrupted, making it clear that he wouldn’t be seeing any more birthdays if he didn’t shut up.

I went to order a cake for husband-head at the local bakery.

“Can you do a Spongebob Squarepants cake?” I asked the lady behind the counter.

“No, I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “But we have other decorations – how old is the child?”

“38.”

She looked at me strangely, and we settled on a Green Bay Packers cake instead.

Happy Birthday, honey. .

New Castle resident Heidi Rice’s column appears every Friday in the Post Independent. Visit her Web site at http://www.heidirice.com.