The Girl turned eight last week. Of course we had a party for her, but Nana and Papa, the Boy, Mama, and Tata — well, it’s an alright party, but most of the responsibility for screaming and hyperactivity falls on the head of the birthday girl herself. It’s a big responsibility, and L made a valiant effort, with some help from the Boy, to roust everyone out of their chairs, but mainly it was the Girl’s work.
What she needed was, say, three other girls, roughly her age, a load of sugar, some presents, and a sleepover party.
It is only then that the full silliness can blossom, for adults don’t really appreciate a little girl’s efforts to blow out her candles with a fully-open mouth like kids would.
Afterward, it was time to organize the gifts. Since the Girl got her ears pierced, all the presents had a common theme, and one cannot just toss dozens of earrings together into a chaotic pile.
Once the sun went down, though, we had only one option: the best lights in town, according to some. Over 350,000 lights, three months to set up, three more to take down — an impressive show.
The adults wandered about, wondering about the motive behind the lights, which surely cost thousands of dollars a year; the kids wandered about, wondering about the free hot chocolate.