This last weekend, as you recall, I was quite sick. I should have been moving my stuff into my new/old room, but a harsh sore throat, congestion, and a headache saw me with as much motivation as my uncles after Thanksgiving as they slump in front of the tv and grunt suggestions at the football referees. But my dazed reverie was broken by a call on my phone from one of the kids that I babysit on Friday nights, a 5th Grade Girl, and the conversation was as follows:
“Her: Hi Hope, my brother (5 turning 6) is having a birthday party today and he wants to invite you.
Me: Is that right?
Her: Yeah, he’s to afraid to call, no….wait, here he is, hold on…
*crackle crackle thud whisper*
Him: Hi.
Me: Hello, I hear it’s your birthday! How old are you?
Him: 5.
Me: Wow, Buddy, that’s pretty old. So you’ve got a birthday party, huh?
Him: Yeah
*silence*
Me: You still there?
Him: Yeah.
Me: I’m gonna hang up now, okay? I’ll be over in a bit….
Him: *crackle thud click*
Me: ….Bye….
Anyways, the party itself was an adventure. It was immediate family, extended family, more family, and…me. I was (somewhat awkwardly) introduced to everyone as “the babysitter” and did my best to smile and nod through the pounding of my head. My throat was in enough pain that I really only drank liquids and semi-solids the majority of the weekend, so I had to explain to a six year-old why I couldn’t choke down more than a bite of his birthday cake without wincing. But other than the underlying uncomfortableness of sitting on a couch sandwiched between relatives, the party was relatively enjoyable. The look on his tiny face when he discovered that the remote-controlled Hot Wheels car that I gave him spun in tiny tiny circles on the kitchen floor while making a satisfying “whoosh” sound made the day more than worth it.
Hope Helps 