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Gramman’s Party

Last Saturday Jim, with the help of some dear friends, organized a surprise birthday party for Evie.

When he first told me of the plans, my heart sank. The party was called for 7:30. Most nights, Simon is beginning to get crabby at 7:30. By 8:00 he’s usually all smiles, but that’s only because we’re into the bedtime routine by then and the kid loves his bath, loves his story-time, and loves his bed.

So while the early evening is frequently the best time of day to be with Simon, it’s a time for being quiet at home, not at someone else’s house with a crowd of strangers and limited access to toys.

I had forecast a disaster. By the time we got in the car, I had both an escape plan and my list of lines ready. “Poor boy,” I was ready to say at 7:45, “he’s used to having his grandparents all to himself, he’s overwhelmed by all of this, and it’s already past his bedtime. I think we’ll just mosey on home now. So sorry we couldn’t stay.”

When Evie didn’t make it the house until nearly 8:00, panic was setting in. Could we leave before she even got there? How miserable did Simon have to be before we ran the white flag up the pole and called it a night?

What I had not anticipated was this night Simon would deviate from his usual crowd aversion and biological clock. The crowd didn’t phase him, the cake and lemonade thrilled him, and he was—truly—the life of the party as he greeted everyone, said “excuse me” as he weaved between people, and played happily in the back room. He (adorably, and I sincerely hope not inappropriately) played a silent game of ring-around-the-rosie during the prayer circle, and when it was time for cake he walked right up to Evie and sang:

“Happy buday to Gramman. Happy Buday to Gramman.”

I think he told her that he loved her, too. Then he dug into the Italian cream cake with gusto and ran around like a crazy man. We finally left at 8:45 or so, and Simon got tucked into his bed that night at around 9:20. By the time he hit the sheets, he was so slap happy he could hardly walk straight and had a terrible case of the evening giggle hiccups.

I know he’s mine and I’m biased, but I also know when Simon is being cute and when he’s being annoying. And on what used to be the first day of spring, Simon was in the full flower of little boy adorableness. I was so proud of him I couldn’t stop smiling. And honestly, I think I may have to prevent Simon from seeing any of Jim and Evie’s friends after this until he’s 25 or so and solely responsible for his own behavior. Because he will never, ever be more adorable or winning than he was that night.

One Response to “Gramman’s Party”

  1. blg says:

    I wish I could have a dollar, just one dollar, for everything you say or think this in the next 25 or so years:
    Because he will never, ever be more adorable or winning than he was that night.

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