Me: So Noah, your birthday is coming up. What do you want to do for your party? Movie night?
Noah: No.
Me: Laser tag?
Noah: Nah.
Me: Paint ball?
Noah: Uh uh.
Me: Rock climbing?
Noah: Mmmmmn, nope.
Me: Ok – I’m at a loss. What DO you want to do?
Noah: Spanish Tapas.
Any hopes or dreams of raising a “boy’s boy” pretty much ended with this conversation.
Not that there is anything wrong with Spanish Tapas. In fact, Dave and I have only ourselves to blame for exposing our boys to a world beyond Wimpy’s and offering them eclectic dining experiences within reason. As a result we are actually looking forward to taking Noah, his brother, and a few friends to DiStrito this weekend for his 12th birthday. Lest you think my kid is a freak of sophistimicated nature, the highlight of the dining experience will be an entrée into the secret karaoke room where plenty of nachos and orange soda will be waiting.
When I was a little girl back in the 1970’s, our parties were held at home with cake, games and opening presents. I was allowed but one party out of the house – roller skating. A simpler time? Perhaps. But I would argue that outsourcing is the only way to go, especially with boys. No mess. No pressure to entertain. And this year the absolute best guacamole with lump crab meat ever to grace a tortilla chip.
Happy Birthday, Noah. Daddy and I would still love you if you wanted to go rock climbing but we’re kind of glad you didn’t.
