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Birthday panic

If I could go back maybe 10 or 5 years into the past, I would laugh at myself for any sudden bursts of panic that I had about my own birthday celebrations. I’ve worked out (somewhat late in the piece) that wrangling 5 or 10 adult guests to a restaurant or a park or theatre or whatever is *not* like herding cats or nailing jelly to a tree. I only thought it was.

The “herding cats” analogy is really mean to apply to children’s birthday parties. Look at me: frazzled, haven’t put on lipstick, shoes don’t match, dark circles under my eyes, and losing my vocabulary. All from dealing with the birthday season. Let me start by saying how happy I am that my DD, nearly 3 years old, has friends who like her enough to invite her to parties, and to say that DD has a good time at parties.

The real hassle is having a party oneself. Tell me, what is it with being too “cool” to reply to an invitation by the RSVP date? (Thinking of last year’s party.) I’ve found adults who do that and then rock up at the last minute if they feel like it, and get their noses out of joint if you didn’t cater for them. Or those who don’t turn up and expect you to have ESP and know that they weren’t going to come. Don’t kid me that you don’t have a mobile phone and couldn’t find time to send an SMS. This year, I put down tomorrow as the RSVP date. Let’s see what happens.

Cakes. Thank goodness for clever, skillful relatives who have offered to make a beautiful cake creation for The Day. “Pink” would be the key word. “Sparkly” and “pretty” would come soon after that. I am very grateful for help with this.

Food. Well, I decided that with the odd weather (frequently above 30 degrees Celsius at this time of year) we could have it indoors at a commercial play area. Yes, it’s more expensive and the play area is noisy, but I have saved up my money and DD loves that play area. (I should add that how I spend my money is my own business). Bonus – the play area staff provide catering for the children and do the cleaning up, plus a cake for the adults.

I should start trying for 8 hours sleep per night this week. Or stock up on gin and tonic.

 

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Me me me!

Oh yes, it’s all about me. Mimi celebrated her second birthday by letting us in to the secret of her ownership of everything. That is, everything that isn’t yucky (another new word). The most annoying one is “my sheat” (referring to my recliner, not Daddy’s whose recliner remains his).

For some reason, sit and seat both start with “sh”. This worried certain people a bit, but seriously, Mimi has no idea what the first means and the second involves making her bed and she’s not at all interested in that. Making a hullabaloo about it doesn’t achieve anything, except perhaps make her interested in the mispronounced words. Modelling the correct pronunciation in response is a lot easier. I remember using that technique time after time when I was a foreign language teacher. Enough to drive anyone mad when done for hours every day.

Most of the time Mimi doesn’t bother with a noun after “my”. Simply pointing or (even better) grabbing the item while hollering “my” is enough to denote possession.

Apparently “looka dere” now means “say what that thing is”, the newest form of torture while trying to read her a book. DH read a book about a farm yesterday and patiently said the words for every critter, building and piece of vegetation on the page.

 
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Posted by on March 3, 2008 in Child Development, Motherhood

 

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