Have you ever planned a kid’s birthday party? Or 2? Or 3? At the same time? So next month is my kids’ 11th birthday party. Yeah, “kids'”. There are three of them. Triplets… and they’d each like to have their own separate birthday party. Why not? How hard can that be? I’m sure David Tutera could pull it off during the commercials. Maybe I’ll schedule the parties just like the kids were born: Three minutes apart.
At 8:51 a.m., when my son Jacob was born, we can go to the popular arcade place for his party with his friends. I’m sure he’ll invite Jaden- the kid I had to hunt down every five minutes of the museum field trip because he kept running off on his own. But I’m sure he’ll be much better behaved at the dark, deafeningly loud arcade with the disco balls. I know Jacob will be much better behaved with his friends at the arcade than he is with his family at the arcade. Every time we go, he has a ritual of showing his dismay for having won fewer tickets than his sisters by throwing a tantrum between the “Subway Surfer” and “Classic Mario Brothers” machines. You might ask: “Then why is Jacob permitted to go every time if that’s how he acts?” I ask myself that every single time.
At 8:52 a.m., we can go to the town pool for daughter #1, Carly… (She’ll love being called “daughter #1- especially when I tell her that it will psychologically scar her sister for life.) Of course Carly will bring her entire entourage. And quite an entourage it is. Depending on the day and who you ask, it can include up to 12 girls. Would it be wrong for me to start spreading nasty rumors among them now so that Carly will only be friends with half of them when the invitations go out? Otherwise it will be an hour before they even get into the pool. The first sixty minutes will be taken up by every girl telling every other girl how cute her bathing suit is and then, in round two, every girl telling every other girl how cute she looks in it. Then they will splash around and play a diving gave for ten minutes before they plant themselves smack dab in front of the pool steps. For the next hour, they will be totally oblivious to the other fifty pool-goers of various shapes, sizes, and ages, who have to squeeze around them to get in or out of the pool. They will instead be totally focused on their task of comparing the “adorable” levels of the boys in their class with the ones on Teen Nickelodeon. “Logan is soooo adorable! I know, right?!”
Then at 8:54 a.m., we can go to the climbing place for daughter #2, Hayley’s party with her own cast of characters: Namely the girl who devoted most of 5th grade math class to coloring her sneakers with marker, and the boy who is way-too-neurotic-to-be-only-eleven who I’m gonna guess is deathly afraid of heights. This is not good. At 5’2″, I’m in no position to climb down a fifty foot rope ladder wearing a sixth grader over my shoulder like a shawl. And, I know from experience, it would all be left up to me. I guarantee, the second that kid starts to panic, my nearly six foot husband will yell: “Bad back!” which of course is the adult version of “Not it!”
Join me next week for part 2 of the “Planning a Kid’s Birthday Party or 2 or 3” when I tackle the cake, opening the gifts, & more.
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