Thursday, November 17, 2005

Visions of sugarplums

Sister's behaviour has been on an upswing at school for the last few weeks. I am grateful. Visions of medicating her or else removing her from school to homeschool have faded from my forebrain. I'm still a little scared to ask her teacher how she thinks things are going with her, but maybe I'll brave this conversation after the holidays.

In the meantime, if Sister can finish this week out with lots of smiley faces on her behaviour chart I'm going to allow her to have a Christmas party. A little girls Christmas tea party, in fact. Husband thinks this idea is ridiculous--"a kid having a Christmas party?!" he snorts, but it's not like I'll be serving cocktails! I do, however, realize that my vision of this party, Sister's vision of this party, and what actually transpires are not likely to jibe very well. I confess that my vision is of sweet little girls dressed in holiday finery, having cups of punch or cider and little plates of sweets. Said sweets loom large in my vision. I'm picturing beautiful pyramids of cream puffs, artfully decorated sugar cookies that Sister and I have whipped up ourselves, glass dishes sparkling in the afternoon sun and filled with homemade brittle, powdered sugar dusted wedding cakes. I'm imagining that the girls will fill their plates with these confections, appreciating that they are homemade, will eat them in a civilized fashion. We'll all play some rousing party games outside because the day won't be too cold or rainy to be comfortable. And at the appointed hour, the parents will pick up their well-behaved offspring, who will smile charmingly and thank us on our way out. This is my vision.

Sister's vision goes something like this. Guests will arrive in their holiday finery, but Sister will still be the prettiest, with the most interesting use of hair scrunchies to top it off. The other little girls will all be in awe of the sweets as Sister proudly brags that she helped make them over and over again. The guests will not tire of hearing this. Sister will give them a tour of her room and her toys and they'll admire everything, envy her quantities of stuff. But they won't complain when Sister wants them to merely look and not touch. Sister will have a number of party games planned and there'll be time for every single one. Each guest will clamor for her to be their partner. The girls will be allowed to hoover down the sweets, as much as they want, as fast as they can cram it into their mouths. Someone will have brought a puppy. Everyone will be allowed to stay an extra couple of hours once their parents get here and realize what a fantastic party it is and how much fun they're all having together.

Of course the truth is somewhere in the middle. Well, o.k., perhaps closer to Sister's version than mine, minus the puppy I hope. And if you think I don't really know that there will also be temper tantrums, tears, things broken, things spilled, things knocked over, clique-ish infighting, stained clothing, hurt feelings, and general bad behaviour due to multiple sugar highs in a small space because that day there'll be pouring rain, even sleet!, then you're wrong. I do know this somewhere. But I think I'll let her do it anyway.

3 comments:

Mommygoth said...

I'm glad I read on to paragraph 2. I was beginning to think aliens had taken the *real* sister.

theyellowwallpaper said...

I'm impressed. To agree to a Christmas party for your daughter when of sound mind is truly admirable. I have yet to even have a B-day party for either of my children that didn't consist of a guest list limited only to a set of grandparents, and where talking just one set :o)

a nice jewish girl said...

I wanna come! Sound like my kind of party. Cancer women have such great visions.