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Saturday, March 7, 2015

The Birthday Card

My kids are six, and as such, they're still at the age where you mostly stay for birthday parties, unless the parents make it explicit that you can, in fact, leave (I always do this. In case people would like to do something with their lives while my children mark another year). But I don't mind parents who do. I don't mind hanging out at a kids' party for a few hours for the most part.

Getting the present, though, that always sneaks up on me, and while I've gotten savvy on the wrapping (I keep wrapping tissue and gift bags in the car), I never ever ever remember a card. And the labels on the gift bags are already all used up because they are totally gift bags we got with, um, gifts in them. We're re-users, here.

Usually, I just raise my hand when the organizer looks in confusion at the blank bag, but for some reason, this time, one of my girls was insistence I at least leave some kind of note.

But we were already at the party, though.

So this was the best I could do.



It's the blank side of my grocery list from this morning which was still scrunched in my purse. I am nothing if not classy. Still, the kid was appeased and all would have gone well until the birthday coordinator made a huge speech about reading birthday cards before opening each present because cards are thoughtful and nice and heartfelt.

And I just about died.

I sidled over to the birthday mom and told her what happened, and she died laughing, but when she recovered she placed our present toward the back so that maybe some of the CARD LECTURE would have faded. And the slip of paper was read with no other incident, thank goodness.

Guess it's time for me to throw some blank cards in my car, too, eh?






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