Valenteen's Day Massacre

At Wednesday's Valentine party, the kids enjoyed playing with each other and passing out valentines.  Even though the playtime seemed more like a demolition derby and the valentine-passing more like rationing food in a war zone, there were no broken bones or broken windows, so I'm choosing to count the experience as a success.


But on the way home, something really unusual happened.  In fact, something happened that I wasn't sure existed until it happened to me. 

Silence.

Do you hear it?  If you're a mom you surely don't, and maybe you're not even familiar with the concept.  Silence is what you hear when the whining stops, the crying stops, no toys or devices are erupting, and no one wants to know if you're "there yet".  It's the sound you would hear if both of your kids would sleep at the same time. 

Ever.

We were almost home when Cael finally broke his silence.

"Mommy?"


"Yeah?"

"Why did we go to that party?"

"It was just a fun thing to do.  Didn't you have fun playing with all of those kids?"

"Yeah, but why did we have a party for Valenteen's Day?"

"You mean Valentine's Day?  It's just a fun holiday, and a good time to tell people we love them."

"But I don't love all of those people."

"Well that's okay, you didn't know them all."

"Then it should have been a "I-Don't-Love-You-'Cuz-I-Don't-Know-You" party, Mommy!"

How romantic.

What he doesn't understand and can't articulate is that friendship (when you're four) means little more than the act of accepting someone despite the fact that they knee you in the groin repeatedly and blame you unjustly when the cat goes missing.  Gathering all of these "friends" together in one room for a party is simply a change of pace-- an opportunity for the mommies to have a singular adult conversation in the midst of trucks, trains, and poop, poop, poop.


"I think it was nice that you got to know those new kids."

"Yeah.  They were nice.  Do you think we could have them come over to our house for a party?"

"We can do that sometime when the weather is nicer and we can play outside."

"And they can say 'I love you' to Oscar and to our firetruck?"

"Valentine's Day is on February 14th, so a party in the spring wouldn't be a Valentine party."

"Yes it would.  They will love the firetruck."

"Okay, Cael.  We can have a Valentine party whever you want."

"Good.  But Mommy?  I DO love the firetruck."

"I know you do, Cael."

So the planning begins for our Spring/Valentine/I-Don't-Love-You-'Cuz-I-Don't-Know-You party.  And if we don't know you, come on over.  The more people we don't love, the merrier.