She’s also decided she doesn’t want a birthday party this year. No more throngs of friends with their calamitous din. She said she might want a party with just a few friends, but that would make the ones she didn’t invite feel left out. That’s very mature, I said. She bowed and said “why thank you” with sarcastic politeness. Every kid hits that point, no? Enough. One year we had a sleepover – ten girls, I think. Oy. Guaranteed no sleep, some tears, everyone owly in the AM, slumpy and surly when picked up. One year: Disney-princess-themed rental bouncy in the back yard. (Yes, “Rental Bouncy” sounds like an English term for a hooker.) Ten girls, ten concussions. Dead grass. One year, a magician. Last year, the Humane Society – no gifts, just contributions to the animal shelter, cake, playtime with a pliant kitten. Looks like that was the end of it.
It’s always the end of something; the trick is to keep your eyes open so you see the start of something else.