fun in threes, sometimes fours
A day of double goodness. First, the Girl turned nine. It happened when she was arriving at school -- 8:05 to be precise. I wished her an official happy birthday when I got back from work in the afternoon. In the meantime, she had cupcakes at school and got to go see E's first concert.
Dinner was her favorite: rosół. Clothes for her Caroline made the perfect birthday gift -- all in all, a good day for her, I think.
We have Candyland and Monopoly, Shoots and Ladders (or is it “Shoots ‘n’ Ladders”?) and checkers, Uno and Jenga, as well as a handful of others, but the one classic kids game we did not have Twister. So when one mother said to us as an aside, “We didn’t know what to buy her so we just got a game,” I was hopeful.
Tonight, we tried it out. And quickly discovered that the Boy isn’t quite big enough to make some of the connections.
“Il est né le Divin Enfant,” a French carol
What makes a perfect birthday party perfect? It's not number of guests, for if that's the case, today's party would be very far from perfect. It's not the price of the gifts, for no matter how much one spends on a present, more is always an option. It's not the cake, though in the case of E and his destruction cake a couple of years back, it certainly made a positive impact.
Having a part in the planning and preparation of your party would be an element of a perfect party, a perfect sign that double digits and more approach. The Girl chose a craft-centered party, spending several weeks researching and thinking about which activities she wanted at her party. In the end, she chose holiday-themed crafts: gingerbread decoration and Christmas tree baubles.
Morning was dedicated to baking gingerbread, then, in various shapes and sizes. There was also significant cleaning as one of the guests is allergic to cats -- never before has the Girl's room and the living room been so thoroughly cleaned. Early afternoon was decorating. And finally, after putting the balloons in place and dressing both Caroline and herself in matching outfits, the Girl was ready for the guests.
Once the girls arrived, the Boy, though, felt suddenly left out. He went into the living room, flopped down on the couch, and said, "Daddy, I'm boring. I'm not doing anything." The girls headed down to the trampoline and he just watched from the balcony. "Don't worry -- you'll get to do all the crafts with the girls. You'll decorate some gingerbread and make a bauble and do whatever else you want to."
After crafts, pizza and a movie, and a bit of fingernail painting. And finally, we cleaned up the mess, and I asked the Girl, "So, was it a perfect party?"
"Pretty much."
And that's the best present she can give to K and me.
A Portugese carol
Every night just before bedtime, just before we read a story, just before one or the other of us cuddles with him until he drifts to sleep, the Boy has a choice to make: which cars will I take to bed with me? We allow him two because otherwise, there would be no room on the bed for him — he would pack every single wheeled vehicle he owns onto his bed every single night.
He makes his choice carefully, and as is typical of his personality, changes his mind a time or three most nights.
This weekend, the Girl will have her birthday party. Her ninth. Her last in single digits. Her interests are maturing with her body. She’s planning on painting her fingernails before her birthday party Saturday, and it’s a choice that, like the Boy’s cars, requires significant thought.
The average RIT score on the MAP test for eighth-grade students is 220. My gifted classes have averages well above 230. My struggling classes have sometimes had averages below 200, putting them in the range of a first- or second-grade reader. When such a class, during optional winter testing, actually goes down as a whole class, it leaves a teacher feeling particularly ineffective. What can numbers tell us about reading? Nothing? Everything? Something?
At a post a day, it would take eight years to reach 3000 posts. However, to reach this, the 3000th post, it took 11 years, which makes an average of 0.747 posts per day — posting about 75% of the time. Eleven years to make it to this, the 3000th post.
Tonight, on the way home from Mass for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, K got a text. “H’s mom just sent me a text,” she said to the backseat. “H is coming to your birthday party and is very excited about it.” An affirming thought: someone other than family likes our kid. Yes, it’s sort of an obvious assumption in a sense: by age nine, most every kid has learned how to make friends with someone.
And yet, there’s the girl that sits in our lunchroom at school every single day alone. One of the sweetest young ladies I’ve ever had the privilege to teach, and yet without a single friend some days. “I just like being alone,” she said once when I plopped down across from her during lunch with my salad and began chatting. And I believed her: I was a bit of a loner myself, and I sometimes thought being alone was just easier than dealing with the uncertainties of other people. So here’s this thirteen-year-old who can’t or doesn’t want to make many friends, and I realize that it’s entirely possible that L might have made it to nine without making any real friends.
What is friendship at that age, though? Just a few weeks ago she was complaining about how some of the very people she’s invited to her birthday party were being none-too-friendly toward her — the usual petty playground stuff. Can she tell when people are really her friends and when they’re just using her, I’ve wondered. How accurate is the perception of a young girl?
A Hungarian Christmas carol