This weekend, Sara got an invitation to a birthday party on October 1st.
Life since has gone a little like this:
Sara: I'm going to M's birthday party..WHEEEEEEEEE!
Parental unit: No, not until October first. It's two Saturday's away, but you'll see M at school this week and next week.
Sara: NO. I'm going to her party RIGHT NOW. Mommy! Curl my hair! I want to wear my fruit dress and my fancy shoes and I'm going to take her a present and we are going to play and eat cake and have FUN! LET'S GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Parental unit: Ummmm.... 1) you ASK if Mommy will curl your hair, you don't demand it, Cinderella's wicked stepsister. 2) The party is not today. 3) You will not be the only person there besides M so you may want to prepare yourself.
Sara: (wailing) I WANNA GO TO M's BIRTHDAY PARTY!!! WAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Parental unit: Wine? Xanex? Nyquil? Where are you, my friends?
Sara: (still wailing) IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We experienced this Friday afternoon, off and on Saturday and on Sunday. This morning, Sara announces that she'll be going to the party after school today.
I mean, really?!?! Is she that stubborn or that obtuse?
I pick her up from AM preschool and we happen to walk out the door behind M. Sara's all skipping and happy, having announced LOUDLY to both preschool classes that SHE IS GOING TO M's BIRTHDAY PARTY.
Oh. my. goodness. That poor teacher. Those poor kids. Poor M and her mom, who are probably sincerely reconsidering that invite right about now!
As we walk to the car Sara says, "YAY!!! I get to go to M's party now. Did you bring the present?"
I explain rather calmly that the party is not today it's in two weeks. Not this coming Saturday, but the next one.
And so begins the wailing. And all I can do, being that I'm mother of the year and all, is laugh helplessly. Really loud HAHAHA laughter that I can't seem to control. And yes, we were getting some strange looks. Sara gets really angry, pulls away from me and goes running, whilst still wailing, through the parking lot to our car. I'm laughing so hard that the tears coming out of my eyes blur my vision so I have no idea if Sara is about to get splattered like a pancake.
Between laughing fits, I try to convince Sara, who is safely crying and snotting all over my car door, to come talk to M and her mom so she can see that I'm not lying to her or trying to ruin her life. M's Mom, God bless her (and not in the southern bless-you-but-really-curse-you way), walks over with me to Sara, really concerned that Sara is having a mental breakdown over this.
No wait, that's not right. She was concerned that I was having the mental breakdown - and rightly so - and was concerned that Sara was genuinely, deeply upset. However, when we walked up to Sara, the faucet stopped in an instant and she was all smiles and excitement that....you guessed it....she was going to go to M's birthday party.
M's Mom says to me, laughing now as well, "You really have your hands full, don't you?"
Yes. Yes, I do.