Four

Bug just turned four, and it was a wonderful day - sunny and complete with friends and family.  But I didn't write my usual happy birthday post for him, and I have been feeling guilty ever since.

The night before his birthday and the party, I was stuffing a Spiderman pinata with three pounds of candy and little toys and trinkets.  Spiderman's face started to peel off of the pinata (for maybe the third time), and I realized we were going to need to scotch tape that spidey face to the pinata for the big day. 

I even thought to myself: "Ha!  Spiderman's face is coming off.  Classic.  Put that in a blog post."


The morning of Bug's birthday, my sister and I were scrambling around various suburbs picking up the birthday cake, ice for the cooler, and balloons.  At the party store, I chose eighteen balloons for the young lady to fill with helium and then hesitated. 

I asked, "Will these balloons all fit in my car okay?"

"What kind of car do you have?"

"A [crossover SUV type thing]."

"Oh - sure - no problem."

Twenty minutes later, my sister and I were wrangling eighteen balloons into the backseat of my crossover SUV type thing, which also has two enormous safety thrones for Bug and Squish. 

As we  finally realized that balloons were taking over the backseat and the trunk area, my sister said, "We could have told her we have a tiny, compact car, and that girl would still have said 'oh - sure - eighteen balloons? - no problem!'  Clearly, she does not know what she is talking about, and we should not rely on her opinion ever again."

Again, a little red blog flag popped up, and I thought: "Ha!  A car filled with balloons.  Classic.  Put that in the blog post."

Several hours later, we were at the party, which was at a playground.  Everyone was having a great time.  The kids enjoyed pizza and cake, after which they managed to get the goods out of the pinata. Then, somehow each of them found a toy whistle and started to blow.  That's right.  Twelve to fifteen kids, aged five and under, blowing on whistles under a tree.  The noise was taking me to the brink of insanity.  I had no choice but to back away slowly and hope that by some miracle, my brain would not explode.

Sure enough -  my brilliant husband said in his best, cheery teacher voice: "Okay - everyone put the whistles back in The Whistle Bag!  Here we go - that's right - good job - into the special Whistle Bag.  Great job everybody!"

And so, my brain did not explode.  And I thought: "Ha!  So many little creatures, each with a loud whistle, and my husband saved the day.  Classic.  Put that in a blog post."

But I have not found the time to write any of this down until this afternoon.  Bug, I am so sorry for the delay. 

The truth is that your birthday blog post should have taken only moments to write because all of the silly things that happened that day were nothing compared to seeing you laughing, running, hugging your friends, and exclaiming to everyone: "I am four!" 

Yes, yes, you are, dear one, and I feel so lucky to be your momma.