“At my birday I’m going to paint faces. I’m the only one allowed to paint faces at my birday. Right mommy? Right?”
“At my birday there’s going to be lollipops for people who don’t like cake.”
“At my birday we’ll sit in a circle. Right mommy? There’s going to be a circle at my birday?”
We’ve been talking about C’s birthday party for a good eight months now. Eight months of debating what color her birthday would be, what cake she would have, and what presents she might get. Now that the time is here, as you can imagine, she can hardly talk about anything else.
Every day brings a new edict about something that needs to be at her “birday” or something that must be done while her friends are here. Duck, duck, goose anyone? But be warned, she’s the only one allowed to be the head tapper. Mother may I? Ack, can’t remember the rules to that one, can anyone help?
I think the party will be lovely; low key, but fun. My only concern is that it won’t live up to her expectations. I mean, how could it? She’s been building it up to skyscraper proportions for so long! Dora herself could lead the kids on a thrilling adventure through the jungle that is our backyard and it still wouldn’t be enough. I’m just hoping the high from too much frosting and all her friends being at her house will be enough to satisfy her.
Oh wait, I also have another concern: that it’s going to be a million degrees and there won’t be any shade in the garden. All the guests are going to melt. Oops. But C won’t care, she’ll be too busy painting their faces and giving out lollipops. Have no fear, I’ll take lots of pictures. Lucky you.