August 11 has become a monumental day at our house, and today it became even more so as I organized and survived my first kid birthday party.
I decided to keep it simple—four friends from school at the local playground to celebrate Eva’s… fourth birthday—but discovered that even the simplest of events are massive undertakings. There is so much to assemble—the pizza and cake, juice boxes, ice, cooler, goodie bags, and the details that surprisingly didn’t slip my mind—the knife for the cake, the matches for the candles, and of course, the children.
“My mama told me I’m FOUR today,” Eva announced to everyone on the playground, whether they were guests of her party or not. And the girls ran amuck until the playground closed down, swinging around the spoils from their goodie bags (you know, the ones stuffed with cheap bubblegum machine prizes that make kids feel like they just won the lottery).
At the end, I loaded up the car, exhausted, and remembered we weren’t even at the final stretch. Tomorrow, the four grandparents come over to spoil their granddaughter rotten and feast on chocolate marble cake.
“We have to go home and take a bath,” I said to Eva as I strapped her into her car seat. “Because guess what? Tomorrow, you’re going to have ANOTHER birthday party!”
“Oh, she said thoughtfully, winding her glow-in-the-dark bubble necklace between her fingers. “Does that mean tomorrow I’ll be FIVE?”
They told me the years would go by fast, but this is ridiculous.