Sunday was Peanut’s birthday party. Things didn’t start out perfect (or even close) when she refused to fall asleep until after 1pm and we had to wake her up by 2. Meltdown ensues. And continues through the ride to Kid City and for another 30 minutes after we get there. Mom has absolutely no voice which means that I can’t even reason with her. Dad is doing his best to unload the car full of drinks, balloons, and food while greeting our guests. After 20 minutes of trying my best to calm P down, I give up and stuff the screaming toddler into her clothes (she is still wearing pajamas). She’s a mess. I’m a mess. Dad’s a mess.
Then Ryan, Peanut’s bff arrives and it’s as if the kid doesn’t have an issue in the world. All the crying has stopped and she’s off and running with Ryan. Ok. Well, at least we can depend on that (Ryan, don’t even leave us).
The rest of the party goes off without a hitch – the kids are having a blast, the adults are doing their best to keep up. The food is good, the kids love the balloons and the cupcakes and the fun straws. The adults try to keep up. I still have no voice. Peanut refuses to open any gifts but since the rest of the kids are around the same age, no one is really all that interested in presents anyways.
We get home and watch our toddler who just ate the frosting off 3 cupcakes (and zero actual cupcakes) bounce off the walls quiet literally, open all her gifts, turn our living room into a gift bag and wrapping masacre. The kid loves every last item and everyone is happy.
I’m calling it a success.