The Party

We had The Kid’s birthday party yesterday and it was a rousing success.

We celebrate his birthday near his half-birthday because he was born between Christmas and New Year’s and it is impossible to keep Christmas from glomming on to the birthday - so we have a party in the summer. We always do something special on his actual date of birth, a special dinner or a new toy, but his party is always in June.

We had a nice turn out. An unusual mix this year of his pals from kindergarten and his older buddies from his karate class. They all got along famously. It was a really great party – except for me tripping over Lefty’s leg and falling mid cupcake distribution. I have this clumsiness that has haunted me since childhood. I bump or spill or fall a lot.

He received some really thoughtful presents. It warms my heart to see how he is loved by his friends.

I discovered that one of the kindergarten moms is a closet writer who wants to write children’s books. She also said that she never shares her writing with anyone. This always astounds me because I will show a piece of writing to almost anyone at anytime once it’s out of it’s infancy. I do not however take critique or criticism. I just say here, read this. Any thing that comes out of their mouths after reading I take with a grain of salt, or maybe a fistful of kosher salt, or maybe a cup and a half of the chunky rock salt you use to make ice cream... There are just a handful of people I share work with for their critical advice and then I listen solemnly and take copious notes, but not until I’m almost certain that most of the writing and revision work is done. Quite often I’m proven wrong about this, but I wait always until I really think a piece is finished before I dress it up and take it out.

Today we are resting and eating leftover cheese pizza and chocolate cupcakes.