The other day I was making a mental note of my calendar, and I realized it's August. AUGUST. You know what this means? For me, it's a countdown that leads me right into fall, and a loss of my glorious summer. I don't mean to be all doom and gloom, it just is what it is. And when fall comes, so does Libby's birthday. No, not right away. But eventually. And my baby's fifth birthday is staring my in the face and I'm trying to run backwards up a very steep slope while gaining forward momentum. How is she approaching five already?
And at the very moment it occurred to me, I blurted out, "Oh my gosh, Libby! You're going to be five soon!"
Mistake. She's been planning her birthday party since those very words escaped my lips. And it's all we talk about.
She's gathering every Pez dispenser to give as party favors. She's planning a treasure hunt. She's making gift bags and guest lists. She's vacillating between themes and working on a menu. She's even invited people already. Oh my gosh. And she's driving me crazy.
So today, while she was deciding that it would be best to give her guests a choice between hot dogs or pizza and salad. I sat down on the floor with her and had a heart to heart.
It went something like this: "Babe, hey. You know, sometimes I cannot believe how fast you're growing. I swear I just held you as an infant and you could do nothing but eat and sleep. You were just a little lump. But, here's the deal.... The other day I had a little panic at the fact that you're almost five. But your birthday is still over three months away. Not tomorrow. More like in a hundred tomorrows. So, maybe we can set aside the party planning and take it up again in a few months, k?"
She was crushed. She let me hold her while she cried, and soon she was on to something else. I've heard mention of her party once today, but nothing like before. This isn't the first time I've had to apologize for my mouth. I'm sure it won't be the last.
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