Children did actually show up at Firecracker's birthday party. One didn't bring a gift and one brought his older brother, but who am I to complain? The room was full and my child was happy, and, best of all, two very competent women ran the whole thing. They played games and marched them outside and did more games and made periscopes and took photos and read them a story, and yet when it was all over they still looked tidy and in control, much to my amazement. I was exhausted and I didn't do anything more than cut the cake, pass out the snacks and hand over the presents. One little boy threw up. It's not really a party until one child throws up. That's how you know the party's winding down. And Firecracker did not receive any girlie presents, no Barbies that have to be passed along to DramaQueen. Her fave was a NASCAR race car that vrooms away when you press a button. Good stuff. Not that she's completely opposed to gentler activities. She used a gift card to buy a doll carrier to hold her little pink puppy, the one with sunglasses and a heart pillow that says Hot Stuff. I've had to buckle it into the car seat each morning on the way to the daycare and promise that I will take it into work. Shhh. Of course I take it into work.
I can breathe again. For a while.