Celebration Complications

Is everyone born in May or December?  Everyone except me, of course, and Joel, and my kids.  So not everyone, I suppose.  But other than my immediate family, it seems as though the birthday celebrations of all of the acquaintances I know are crammed into those months. 

And when you add in graduation parties, Mother's Day and Memorial Day, I have a feeling we will be on a permanent party cycle.  Just yesterday, we hit the circuit, going from Papa's birthday celebration to one for our neighbor boy who I watch during the week, and after a brief nap, on to Daddy's jazz concert.  When the kids were finally in bed, I collapsed, exhausted, on the couch, only to notice and wonder just exactly how long my fly had been down.  Nice.

Even though today doesn't hold any events for us, parties were still on Cael's brain at breakfast this morning.

"Mommy, I want dinosaurs for my party."

"What party?

"My birthday party."

"Oh, okay.  We can probably do a dinosaur cake or something.  But honey, your birthday isn't until October." 

 "I don't need one in October.  Let's just do it now."

"Well, unfortunately it doesn't really work that way. Plus, you'd be so disappointed when October came around and  there was no cake and presents."

He had to ponder that.  And while I was willing to bet the Airstream, Joel's favorite beer sign and our first grandchild that he'd want to proceed with a birthday in May swap, he surprised me and went another way.  A very clever way.

"For my 'now' birthday, I don't want my present to be a dinosaur.  I want my present to be that I get another birthday in October.  You can do the dinosaurs then."

Thanks for the honor, Cael.

"And Mommy?  For Christmas, I want three Christmases."

"Wow, that's a lot of presents and parties.  But sweetie, there is no way that Santa or Mommy and Daddy can afford that many presents." 

"Okay, then for my first Christmas, I'll ask Santa for a bunch of money.  Like a HUNDRED DOLLARS!"

"Do you think that sounds like a lot of money?"

"Yeah.  We'd be rich."

"Well, Cael, one hundred dollars isn't really very much money.  That would only buy a few presents.  And what about Graham?  He'd want some gifts, too.  You might want to come up with a new plan."

"Okay, I'll ask Santa for FIFTY NINETY TWENTY dollars."

"I'm not sure what that means, exactly.  How about you ask Santa for five thousand dollars?  That would make Christmas really amazing."

"Yeah.  I'll ask him.  Then we could have Christmas every day!"

This was obviously getting out of hand.  Especially considering that we are pretty modest with our gift-giving (birthdays especially), and I could see that we were setting ourselves up for a future in which a fourteen year-old Cael threw a fully blown conniption fit when we wouldn't buy a brand new car for him to practice driving.  Maybe a Bentley.  Would he settle for an Airstream motorhome?  Probably not.  Been there, done that.

"Cael, listen.  It's fun to imagine all of those presents and parties, but that's not how it really works.  We only celebrate once, and you don't need tons of Christmas presents to be happy.  If you have too many toys, the ones you have don't seem as special."

"Okay, Mommy.  We can have one Christmas.  But I'm still going to ask Santa for a lot of money."

"You can always ask, honey, but I don't think Santa gives away cash."

"Oh."

He looked deflated, but I was glad that he so readily accepted only one celebration.  Or so I thought.

"Mommy, now about my extra birthday party..."

Maybe I am the one who should be asking Santa for money this year.