I just bought a can of frosting.
I was assigned frosting for my daughter’s school holiday party.
Every household is expected to help with one party a year and I dutifully signed up for this one because I thought it seemed like the time of the year that I would feel most festive. My sole task was to bring frosting for kids to smear onto cookies that someone else made.
I’m not sure if the room mothers thought I couldn’t be trusted with more or if I somehow have to work my way up to actual food, but the bottom line is that I had to attend an hour long party with the baby in tow in order to deliver frosting.
I, along with several other moms and two dads who came especially from work, sat around and watched our kids eat a giant cookie covered with frosting and whatever toppings they wanted (brought by another mom).
This is not my idea of a good time.
I’ve seen my kid eat cookies. With frosting. And sprinkles. We actually made cookies at a friend’s house the next day. People who know me understand that I am not exaggerating when I say that I would choose to eat cookies above all other foods.
I did not actually get to EAT a cookie at this party, however, so I basically just used 1/4th of the very short time my little girl attends school in order to watch OTHER PEOPLE EAT COOKIES.
But I smiled. I engaged in boring chit-chat with other parents (how old are your other children? how long have you been in Atlanta? can you believe the weather?, etc.).
And I got this response from my daughter–“I saw a baby and then a Mommy and then I realized that it was you! I love you, Mama.” How can I resist that?
Thus, today’s lesson. I don’t enjoy the musical stylings of 4-year-olds. I don’t like changing diapers. I hate the smell of most children’s toiletries.
But my kids think I’m having a great time, so after a little while, I usually actually do. I pray I can remember this the next time I have to spend 2 hours delivering tissue paper or googly eyes and yet another can of frosting.