Birthday Fever - is it as contagious as it seems?

Alongside lying on a warm, cream leather sofa during the middle of a bitterly cold January, my eyes glued to the television as I take myself on a breathtaking journey to the Hamptons, featured in juicy-as-an-apple, Desperate Housewives-addictive series Revenge, birthdays and myself - Miss Perfect, Utterly Flawless LikeATeen - are like two peas in bean-shaped pod: we just blend nicely together, rather like the Victorian Christmas cake I made yesterday morning, thanks to the marvellous help of the family's most cherished member (obviously after me, of course!), the trustworthy Kitchenaid.

Undoubtedly, I adore the occasion surrounding birthdays a million and one times more - I use this example to prove my over-exaggerated point, albeit it probably unnecessary and simply takes up more writing space - when the beginning of February rolls around and I'm immersed in a happy-looking pile of neatly wrapped presents, their teddy bear-patterned paper brought to life by screaming at me to rip them open and discover the often-known gifts hidden inside. Oh yeah, devil food's cake and a traditional Chinese stir-fry are not to go amiss, either - certain habits, to my relief, never die a horrible, gut-wrenching death and will hopefully remain until I'm around eighty years old, although I would far rather not contemplate on that idea for many jam-packed years yet.

However, as I've yet to view countless more Christmas adverts and set up the treasured, highly decorated tree - the one which has been part of my family for many years and is closely near to my silver glittered heart - before the two new Kits on the Block arrive home (it turns out that they were around two weeks younger than I initially believed; my fingers have been crossed painfully tight for a while that they will be rolling on the carpet and attempting to assassinate their mouse-shaped toy by this time next week), the wait until my birthday can finally be celebrated à la Prom Queen-style will be tediously long, so I ought to focus my attention on the up-coming gaiety in my baby pink Paris-themed diary: my Chelsea-supporting, Puma-wearing younger brother's 13th birthday.

With only less than two weeks to go until the massively celebrated occasion turns up on the damp-as-my-washed-hair doorstep, my brother's excitement surrounding his life-changing, memorable birthday - come on, becoming a fully-fledged teenager must mean more to you than witnessing Manchester United pick up the trophy for winning the Premier League again! - is rapidly increasing, particularly as he cannot wait to get his hands on his new, much coveted-for Xbox 360, which he has been talking about for more hours than you could on a premium plan on any mobile network.

YouTube - in my opinion, otherwise known as the gaming haven for gelled-to-the-heavens teenage boys - has assumed the form of a confidence-raising, knowledge-absorbing outlet for my brother, who, in recent months, has picked up more information regarding video games simply through watching episodes produced by renowned gamers such as Pewdiepie - and, although I sometimes wish for nothing more than to bang my napkin-spotty head into the paper-thin walls, I feel pleased for my brother that he is taking up a hobby which may possibly emerge as a potential career for him in the future, if I picked up his ramblings about getting a job at a gaming firm correctly.

As one gets older, several things - most of which once used to provoke an agonizing headache for the duration of longer-than-naturally-possible hours - become as easy as sticking a hoped-to-be-clean finger into a warm, mouth-watering sweet blackberry pie; OK, the plain majority of brothers living on this planet have no defence about creating a nuisance towards a close family member, such as their long-suffering, stunning-as-a-goddess sister (perhaps the most apt description for myself, selon moi), but they sort of give their relatives a break here and there when growing up assumes the role as a higher priority, so my dried-out throat is thankfully unable to scream about my brother's terrors anymore.

So, I can breath a sigh of relief that my brother is able to grant me around two hours or so of blissful teeth whilst he resumes his semi-permanent seat on the sofa and watches Chelsea's second match within an oh-too-short week ('They are playing too often,' he sometimes complains; according to me, why not? Fernando Torres ought to gain his right for a chunky cheque at the end of the seemingly 'exhausting' week, right?), yet I'm placed in an awkward decision once the countdown to his birthday begins - all because of a bout of blurred confusion.

Parents may not appreciate the use of the often disapproved word, but I cannot think of any other statement to describe it; when a kind-eyed, well-behaved child morphs into a gum-spitting, heavy metal-listening teenager - seriously, this is not actual judgement; over-clichéd and utterly pathetic movies from another era are to blame - the bubble in which Christmas and birthdays used to be included suddenly bursts with an ear-shattering bang, leading to relatives beginning to thoroughly hate the occasion because it is no longer simple to walk into a shop and purchase a gift - such as clothing - which would have guaranteed at least one wear.

Maybe us teenagers are to blame: are we quickly developing into the generation who can neither make up their minds or know, deep down, which makes our hearts sing wildly or encourages us to mumble a half-telligible 'thanks' in response? Who knows from which source I've received my indecisiveness, which usually emerges out of the blue on what is typically the worst time - one minute, I'm fully capable of making up my mind and remaining toughly stubborn on my decision, whilst all of my reasonable senses go to waste the following moment. Therefore, this leads to my bewilderment regarding what to buy my brother for both his birthday and Christmas, which all take place within less than a month - a dream in paradise, if only I wasn't wandering around in a hopeless, disorientated state.

I wish to get something which my brother will genuinely appreciate - the appearance of a faltering, darkly disappointed smile has never been placed in my direction before, so I hardly yearn to catch a saddening glimpse of it now - without breaking the bank, so perhaps a video game would be the most ideal gift suited to his wants. Then another problem prevents me from overcoming the obstacle - out of the thousands being sold on Amazon and advertised in booklets and alien-themed adverts, which game would my brother most covet for? Asking him is nearly impossible because I can barely muster a response out of his in-need-of-Vaseline lips; I'm almost on my own in this hard-to-solve case. If Sherlock Holmes did happen to exist and was wondering through the streets of my littered town, I would have a present for my brother - ideally for Christmas, as well - within no time.

Hmm, the way that things are going at the moment, I'm starting to place doubts on myself about whether I will come up with a spectacular idea before the deadline within thirteen days time - sadly, my mind has not yet adapted to being capable of coping during intense times of pressure, so I may have to abandon my wishes to purchase a little, yet highly meaningful gift for his birthday. However, my brother made a comment last night about how much he 'loved' the biscuits that I always used to make - I instantly knew that he was making a reference to the spicy gingersnaps, a beloved staple in the family kitchen - so I will probably find myself producing a double batch of the sweet treats, intending to hand him over the largest cookie of the lot.

Besides, doesn't love - especially from one's elder, been-through-it-all sister - display much more than a video game, which may not necessarily promote those affectionate messages? Birthdays are always great fun, regardless of whose special day is being given top promotion, and I'm looking forward to giving my younger, ever-so-thoughtful brother a helping, black-gloved hand as he takes his first tentative steps towards becoming a young, dashingly handsome adult; along with some natural goodness of some undeniably delicious coconut cake. The thought of it simply makes my mouth water uncontrollably...