WCK's birthday party is tomorrow. Every year, I vow that WCK's birthday party is not going to turn into a giant extravaganza. Then everything goes black, and when I come to, the party has turned into, of course, a giant extravaganza. It's usually a bigger extravaganza than the extravaganza I was picturing when I vowed it would not turn into an extravaganza.
I thought I was doing a pretty good job of keeping things under control this year until WCK asked me what my birthday had been like when I turned four. My mom kept meticulous records of these things in my baby book, so I hauled it out of the closet and checked. I had three little girls from the neighborhood over to the house. My mom noted that my sister did not attend the party because she was taking a nap. We had a little homemade cake. I wore a big poofy party dress, but everyone else wore 1979 bell bottoms. There was a short list of gifts, including socks, underpants, and a bottle of glue.
There's a picture of me holding this bottle of glue. I look really, really, really excited to have received my very own bottle of glue.
What's WCK getting this year? Um. More than a bottle of glue. At this rate, what are her children going to receive when they turn four? A yacht?
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