WWW.partyplanner

We have been talking a lot about birthdays around here lately. Weston attended his first-ever friend party a couple of weeks ago and has been excited about planning his party ever since. When you are turning four, one of the most important things is to pick a theme for your party. Weston changes his mind about every ten minutes, but there does seem to be a general direction towards transportation of some sort. During lunch today, he wanted to talk about his party and by the time we finished eating he had settled on boats. The following ensued.

Mom: What kind of boats do you like?

Weston: [blank look]

Mom: Sailboats? Speed boats? Fishing boats?

Weston: Definitely sailboats. I want a sailboat cake with RED icing.

Mom: O.k. Let's look at some pictures online, and you can tell me what you like.

Mom and Weston proceed to look at hundreds of pictures of boat cakes, none of them red enough, but many of them interesting--especially the 3D ones. After maybe ten minutes of this, Weston had something important to say.

Weston: Um. Actually, I think I would like to have a car cake.

Mom: A car? Really? Well, o.k. What kind of car?

Weston: [blank look]

Mom: A race car? Like on your backpack?

Weston: Um, actually, like on my lunch box. (This is the SAME car that's on his backpack).

Mom: O.k. Let's see what we can find.

Weston (after about five minutes): What I would really like is a truck...which is like a car.

Mom: What kind of truck? A firetruck...?

Weston (with eyes and mouth wide open): Ooh! A firetruck!! I definitely want a firetruck!

Mom: O.k. we'll look at a few pictures, but then we are going to stop and I will ask you again in a few days.

Later that same day.

Mom: Who do you want to invite to your party?

Weston: Oh, the people from across the street, the people from preschool, you guys and the young man who lives in the white house.

Mom: The "young man who lives in the white house?!" I don't think I know who that is. Can you tell me his name?

Weston (completely exasperated): You know. The young man who lives in the white house...with the roof. (Shapes his hands like a roof). I pointed him out to you the other day.

Mom (feeling very clever for having figured out the mystery by remembering that he pointed out his imaginary friend's house on the way to preschool the other day): Oh, you mean Jackry?

Weston (utterly indignant): No, Mom! The young man who lives in the white house. I'll show you.

Weston drags Mom out the front door and points to the white house just down the street, where a "young man" has never once been seen by Mom.

Mom: Do you know his name?

Weston: No. But I know I want him to come to my party.

Mom: Sorry, Son, but I think we are just going to stick to inviting people whose names we know.

We've still got a good month and a half until party time, and there is literally no telling how this birthday party will evolve. But, clearly, we will have a lot of laughs in the planning.