My 5-year old received this in the mail today:
Playing games? Eating brownies? You don't have to ask him twice!
I have to give this little boy's mother themommymemoir All Heart-No Pretense Award. How wonderful to just let this be what it is--a kid's birthday party... When I witness this type of simple, in-the-moment parenting, I feel humbled. And inspired.
By the way, don't you wish that adult parties had an end-time? No awkward clanking-of-dishes or the "gee, I sure do have a lot going on this week" declaration in order to mozy your mirth-makers toward the front door. No wondering if you've overstayed your welcome or, conversely, if you have offended the host by leaving prematurely. There's none of that social guesswork at kids' parties. It's all stipulated from the get-go.
For my husband, there is never such a quandary. For him, it's party 'till the break 'o dawn or his wife's break down, whichever comes first...This is not to say that I don't enjoy parties--I do. Really. But I get my fill and then, well, I'm wondering what's on the Drudge Report. Or what books are on my nightstand. Or just how far I can extend Pi.
Jim just shakes his head in resignation. In his world, the merriment continues as long as even one hang-dog soul remains in an upright position. And do not get me started on his family's goodbye ritual. Suffice it to say, I've learned after thirteen years of marriage that if I want to leave, I need to give him a head's up at least one hour out. In fact, my husband's (and most of my in-law's) rite-of-goodbye often rivals the duration and festivity of the party itself. God love these talk-crazy people.
I love 'em too, actually. A lot.
And as far as a party-end time... I know it's never going to happen...I guess it really is a social convention for the less-than-four-feet crowd. In the meantime, I've always got Pi.
P.S. So far, I've made it to 3.14159265
By the way, don't you wish that adult parties had an end-time? No awkward clanking-of-dishes or the "gee, I sure do have a lot going on this week" declaration in order to mozy your mirth-makers toward the front door. No wondering if you've overstayed your welcome or, conversely, if you have offended the host by leaving prematurely. There's none of that social guesswork at kids' parties. It's all stipulated from the get-go.
For my husband, there is never such a quandary. For him, it's party 'till the break 'o dawn or his wife's break down, whichever comes first...This is not to say that I don't enjoy parties--I do. Really. But I get my fill and then, well, I'm wondering what's on the Drudge Report. Or what books are on my nightstand. Or just how far I can extend Pi.
Jim just shakes his head in resignation. In his world, the merriment continues as long as even one hang-dog soul remains in an upright position. And do not get me started on his family's goodbye ritual. Suffice it to say, I've learned after thirteen years of marriage that if I want to leave, I need to give him a head's up at least one hour out. In fact, my husband's (and most of my in-law's) rite-of-goodbye often rivals the duration and festivity of the party itself. God love these talk-crazy people.
I love 'em too, actually. A lot.
And as far as a party-end time... I know it's never going to happen...I guess it really is a social convention for the less-than-four-feet crowd. In the meantime, I've always got Pi.
P.S. So far, I've made it to 3.14159265
1 comment:
This sounds like my kind of party! It doesn't get much better than all-you-can-eat brownies in one and a half hours.
BTW, I do agree about the designated end time.
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