Sunday, September 30, 2007

"It's My Party, I'll Get Naked If I Want To"

Last night, my family survived what could have been a catastrophic event. We went to a party. A grown-up party, hosted by one of Matt's bosses, who is not married and does not have kids- but strongly encouraged Matt to bring our entire brood. A catered party, in a beautiful, non-kid friendly home, complete with white walls, original art pieces and a grand piano worth more than all of the contents of my house. To say I was nervous about this was a mild understatement. I packed a backpack filled with washable crayons, stickers and a Mr. Clean magic eraser, and hoped for the best.

We picked up a small box of Neuhaus chocolate as a host gift, and elected Annie as the gift bearer. She came toting it in to the party, and bellowed out "Who is Dr. XXX? We've got some chocolate for ya." To the delight of other guests, she thrust the candy into his hands, said "Thanks for the party!" and then smiled gleefully when he asked her to open them. She helped herself to a couple of rounds of Belgian chocolates, before we barricaded all of the kids (there were 4 other ones at the party) on the sunporch with toys and chicken nuggets. Waiters with silver trays delivered Capri Suns to keep them from getting thirsty.

The sun porch soon lost its shine, and the kids slowly start to either go home (not mine) or explore the house (uh oh). In between juggling Lucy, who has a serious party-phobia and spends the entire time on my hip, with her head burrowed into my shoulder, I hear my husband say "Hey now, that's not a good idea." Then, Matt appears in front of me and says "Annie's in the den, and has taken off her shoes and socks, and just asked everyone if she can take off her pants." I look at him in horror, and whisper vehemently, "get in there N-O-W. She will be completely naked before you can take one more sip of that margarita." She did not get naked, (Thank you God) but she did discover the fun of stealing desserts from other's plates, and then, after gorging on eclairs and fruit tarts, she pulls a cashmere afghan off the back of a chair and lays down on a sheepskin rug in the living room and pretends to fall asleep (her fake snoring is really getting realistic). That was our cue to leave.

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