The Long Awaited Birthday

Max wakes up with smiles of joy. It's the big day.

Max watches Natalie try to Pin the Smile on Crabby, a party game staple for years.

The Crabby is decorated.

Blow out the candles.

What's a party without tears?

Okay, so Max's birthday is today. He has been waiting for this day for a year. He has been inviting, uninviting, inviting, uninviting all his friends to this party for the last year. Anytime he has had a conversation with someone in the last year, they are invited. Anytime he has had a fight with someone in the last year, they have been uninvited. I have been uninvited myself about 20 times in the last four months.

Although he has been talking about his party for a year, it has been in generalities. So last week, I tried to narrow his ideas down. I started with the guest list.  It was huge. "Anyone who wants to come can come to my party, except bad guys." How about what did he want to do? "You'll see," was his response. And what did he want for his birthday? "Anything you want to give me." Of course, this may seem like a mother's dream, but I knew that meant I needed to mind read.

Let's begin with the last week. I call it, The Prelude to The Party. Last Sunday, Steve's parents came over and brought Max his birthday present. He loved the Lego's and on Monday said, "Hey Mom, remember when I got these Lego's for my fake birthday?" At least he wasn't confused and thought he was already four.

Wednesday was a good day for Max. He went to the dentist, cried, but got a prize. His prize was a ball about the size of a softball. George got one also. When we got home, Max took both balls, put them up his shirt, and proving his budding knowledge of the world said, "Mom, look at my moles." I'm not sure what was worse: having Max refer to my boobs as moles, or putting the balls in his shirt in the first place. Lovely.

Later in the afternoon, he got a card in the mail from my parents. There was a check for 20 dollars. Not knowing what it was, he wasn't excited. I informed him that the paper meant 20 bucks. He stared and said, "Holy crap!"

On Thursday, we went to Target. Quite an experience in itself. I brought both the boys so Max could pick out treats for the party bags. I had to explain to him that he would not be getting these treats. That didn't go over very well. George brought his own money and kept picking up things and putting them back. Max did the same thing with his birthday money from Grandma and Grandpa. My favorite moment was when George had to go to the bathroom. I waited outside the men's. He came running out in tears with his pants unzipped, "Pee is all over the floor. It's coming out of the toilet! They are going to kick us out." Like a true mother, my first concern was, is there any pee on him. I checked him out and he was fine. I told George we could go tell customer service and they would unclog the toilet. He was hysterical, "They are going to kick us out." I tried to assure him that this kind of stuff happened all the time and they had workers to take care of it, but he could not be consoled. On our way out of the store, the men's bathroom had a closed sign on it.  Apparently, he wasn't exaggerating. 

And yesterday, Max informed Steve that he was the control guy at his party. Everyone who came would be subject to his commands.

So Max woke up today with a smile on his face. He informed everyone he was four. He didn't boss anyone around (too used to his place as the youngest). He liked his cupcakes and more importantly, so did George (Max picked cupcakes because George doesn't like cake, who knows what the difference is). Basically, all went well except for a few birthday tears, but seriously, who doesn't cry on their birthday?