Sealand wasn't really expecting anything for his birthday. One of the things about not being officially accepted as a country is the fact none of the other countries can officially send birthday gifts. Although, one time Lithuania has slipped him some chocolate, as a personal gift when he heard it was Sealand's birthday.

Of course, his people would have the usual celebration with drinks and a grand feast, and the ceremonial letter sending, where Sealand would once again submit his request to be recognized as a real country, and all the people would clap and cheer. Every one of his people would speak to him and wish him a happy birthday, as there was a popular belief on the ship that If they spoke to the personification of the country on this day they would have good luck the next year.

Sealand loved his people, even if there numbers were smaller every year. After all, without them sealand wouldn't exist. But, he thought, it was a little lonely. After all, sealand dint grow or change, and was too much like the other countries to be truely accepted by the people. But he was also too much unlike the other countries to be accepted by them. In a way, Sealand was all alone. He had no place with the people and no place with the countries.

That's why he wasn't expecting anything for his birthday. No one would know or care that it was his birthday, since he wasn't a real country. Or at least, that's what Sealand had thought. When he saw the single orange rose and the small glass bottle of syrup of the table, his eyes grew wide as saucers. He thought that maybe there had been a mistake. A gift? For him? But he was Sealand! But the small colourful tag attached to the bottle of syrup clearly proclaimed in elegant writing: Happy Birthday, Sealand!

All of a sudden, Sealand felt like he could easily submit hundred requests to be recognized today. He felt like he had enough energy to great every one of his people cheerfully, like he could- his stomach growled loudly and Sealand eyed the syrup hungrily. He had just anough strength to make breakfast, he decided. So he made pancakes. As they cooked, he gently placed the rose in an empty jar, as he didn't have a vase. He couldn't help but stare at it, and his face kept breaking into a smile.

He wondered just what an orange rose meant. France would know, Sealand thought lazily. France always had roses. He poured the maple syrup of the steaming pile of pancakes, and stuck a single candle into the middle of the stack.

"Happy birthday to me,

Happy birthday to me,

Happy birthday to Sealand,

Happy birthday to me."

He sang softly to himself, and then squeezed his eyes shut and made a wish. "I wish I won't have to be so alone this year." And with that, he leaned forwards and blew out his candle, then eagerly dug into his food. "This is really good!" he said out loud. He began to think that this might be his best birthday ever.