Yet Another Birthday Party Story

This time there are no tears of sadness, no venting, no frustration.  Just one happy mommy, eyes dampened from happiness and contentment, secure in the knowledge that her baby is growing up and has friends.  Yes, she's only 4, but what I witnessed on Saturday warmed my heart, and I think may have touched the hearts of some of the other mommies in attendance who shared the vision of my beautiful girl embraced by her schoolmates, guided and encouraged as one of their own.

The party was at one of the local "bouncy places."  I truly don't know what to call them - do you?  And what do you call the "bouncy things?"  I call them bouncy castles for lack of another term readily available.

Anyway...

One of Sammi's "typical" classmates turned 5.  I've heard her name mentioned fairly frequently among her list of friends she likes to play with at school, and was happy to have received an invitation to her party.  Bouncy places have become much more fun as Samantha has gotten older, now that she's able to climb the ladders to the big slides (no easy feat, as most of you know!).  While I used to cringe in fear as the older, stronger kids would push past her to get to the top more quickly, she has proven herself capable of holding on tightly, going with the flow, and offering up her own push from time to time when someone crowds her space too aggressively.  The last party at a bouncy place that we went to was in January.  Samantha did pretty well, but asked me to join her in each of the static-y, jiggly apparatuses.  I learned how amazing a workout jumping up and down in a giant air-filled pillow can be, and vowed to try to find a living-room sized version of my own one day.

Saturday was different.  I had a sneaking feeling it might be...  The moment we arrived and had taken off our shoes (mine removed in anticipation of being summoned her at her Royal Majesty's whim), her friends surrounded her in greeting, grabbing her hand and leading her off to play with them. 

She never looked back.

For once, for the very first time, Mommy was able to sit and chat with the other parents.  While I still kept a watchful eye, I only saw my child having the time of her life, as children should at birthday parties.  Her friends stayed close, and every now and then I'd see them running across the room, hand in hand, to another activity, Sammi laughing all the way.  The other girls occasionally helped her a bit too much, but really, I did appreciate it, and Samantha, my little independent, almost-not-a-preschooler-anymore (yep, my little baby's been officially registered for Kindergarten now!!!) stopped them when she wanted to do something herself.

I was thinking back to my statement in a previous post about how Samantha has cried at nearly every birthday party in the last year and a half.  And it's true.  And I've been trying to dissect each experience to see if I can figure out what the triggers are.  And I think I may have sussed it out, finally.  First of all, there's the familiarity piece.  Does Sammi know all/most of the children there, and feel comfortable with the environment?  She sure did on Saturday...  Then there's the singing of Happy Birthday to You.  That bottom lip always seems to go then, and I suspect it may be due to the close proximity of the voices surrounding her, all singing in unison (sort-of).  Eh, who can blame her?  I watched her carefully when they started on Saturday, and sure enough, there went the lip, stuck out and quivering.  But I grabbed her and distracted her enough to head it off at the pass, holding those tears at bay.  And lastly, I have finally figured out the issue with the cake...  So many of these organized birthday parties at places other than people's homes have people that bring the cake over for the obligatory moment when the songcanbesung/candlescanbelit, but then after so much anticipation, so much drooling over the promise of brightly-colored frosting and cake, it's lifted up off the table and flown away to some unseen location to be cut.  Then the pieces are brought back on plates, divvied out among children, some to be served sooner than others by pure luck of the draw.  Poor Sammi, that's got to be such a trauma!  I should have known.  We always cut her birthday cake right in front of her so the first delicious piece can be dropped onto her plate in seconds.

And on Saturday it wasn't. 

And she was about to cry.  And I had been watching and waiting and anticipating once again, ready to explain to her the mysteries of the missing cake and the virtue of patience.  And she did well.  I could see her internal struggle, trying to listen to my logical explanation, trying to be patient.

Sooooo, there were lessons all around to be learned here.  The power of friendships, the fortune of a great PT, the knowledge that issues can be overcome with understanding.  I have no doubt there will be issues at some point again, but at least we got to go to one very happy birthday party.



sound asleep in my chair after the party