Several weeks ago, Sam came home with an invitation to a birthday party. I’m pretty sure that this was his first class party. I pinned the invite to the bulletin board, and kept working. The next morning, I noticed the invite again as I hurriedly stuffed lunches into backpacks, and children into snow pants.
“Sam! You’ve been invited to Andrew’s birthday party!” I said smiling. His brow knit together as he looked at the brightly colored card. “No. That’s just from Brandon’s birthday treat,” he explained. “No, Sam, look, it says right here: You’re invited!” I said, pointing. “No, Mom, I’m not,” he insisted. “Sam, really, you are invited, it says so right here!” Kate tried to convince him. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Can we just throw that away?” he asked.
Only my kid would get invited to a party and want to throw away the invitation. Nothing worked to get him excited about the party. “What kinds of things would Andrew like for a present, Sam?” Slumped shoulders, eyes heavenward, “Oh, Mom! Can we please just not talk about this?” “But Sam! It’s going to be so much fun! All the boys in your class will be there!” Seven year old lying on the floor. “That means like 15 people that I will have to talk to — do you know how hard that is?” I RSVP’d anyway. “Sam is very excited about the party!” I lied.
On the big day, I sent the little worrywart out the door and told him to have a good time. His brothers picked him up after the party and brought him home. He burst through the door, dropped his coat and backpack and shouted, “This was the funnest day of my life!” He ran from room to room dispensing treats from his goodie bag and punching his balloon. “We even got to hit a baseball with a bat until the candy fell out of it!”
Well, don’t take my word for it…
