The Nephew Birthday Wish Struggle
So my nephew’s turning 13 this weekend. Thirteen! Feels like yesterday he was trying to eat my phone. I knew the usual “Happy Birthday, have a great day!” text was just… weak sauce. Totally lame. Gotta step up my uncle game. Figured funny was the way to go. Kids love funny, right?
Brainstorming Disaster Time
Sat down with my laptop, opened a blank doc, stared at it. Hard. “Funny birthday wishes for nephew”… typed that into the search bar, obviously. Pages and pages of stuff flooded in. Most of it? Cringier than mismatched socks. Seriously. Overused puns, cheesy jokes – stuff my dad would’ve told in 1995. This called for some actual effort.
Grabbed a notebook instead. Started scribbling:
- Pizza Parcel: Mail him a giant empty pizza box saying it’s the “thought that counts”? Costs a fortune just for shipping…
- Sock Surprise: Send 13 mismatched novelty socks? Might get me disowned.
- Fortune Cookie Fakeout: Bake fortune cookies with weird messages? Let’s be real, me baking? Disaster.
Groaned. Loudly. Why was making a kid laugh so hard?
Getting Weird & Making It Work
Time for drastic measures. Texted his mom, my sister-in-law. Sneaky recon: “Hey, what’s actually making him crack up lately?” Goldmine! She spilled: obsesses with terrible “dad jokes”, loves that old kid pretending to be grown-up shtick, thinks photo booths are peak comedy.
Okay. Ideas started firing:
- Couldn’t bake? Fine. Bought regular fortune cookies, CAREFULLY pried them open, swapped fortunes for ridiculous ones like “Your future holds… more homework. Sorry.” Taped them shut. Looked suspicious, perfect.
- Rummaged deep in my closet. Found a truly awful, too-small, slightly stained “vintage” band t-shirt. You know, the one you keep “just in case” and always regret.
- Went full-on embarrassing uncle mode at Walgreens for the card. Found one with googly eyes. Bought ridiculous metallic confetti.
The Grand Delivery Plan (& Execution)
Couldn’t just hand him stuff. Where’s the drama? Packed it all into a giant cardboard box we had lying around.
- Laid the ugly t-shirt down.
- Sprinkled the stupid confetti EVERYWHERE inside.
- Placed the googly-eye card on top.
- Made a special pocket inside the card for a folded-up, fake, overly official-looking certificate: “License to Be Awesome (and Annoy Your Parents)“.
- Shoved the tampered-with fortune cookies in too.
- Last minute touch? Printed a tiny, blurry photo of me from like 2007 and taped it inside the box flap with “Send Help” written under it.
- Sealed it like Fort Knox with way too much packing tape.
Phew. Presented it to him yesterday. Watching him wrestle the tape off was half the entertainment.
The Big Reveal (And The Win)
He opened it. Stared. Blinked.
Then?
He cracked up. I mean full-on, snorting, bent-over laughing. Especially at the tiny sad photo of me. Victory!
He immediately put on the terrible shirt (it somehow fit?!) and forced everyone to read the fake fortunes. Even ate the cookies. Apparently stale fortune cookies are part of the fun.
The Point? Forget perfection. It’s about the thought, the weird effort, and maybe embarrassing yourself a tiny bit. Works wonders. Go be the embarrassing relative they remember.
