Not really, but sometimes it feels that way.

There has been basketball season and my child’s Never Ending 10th Birthday Celebration. Due to sports schedules, snow days, work, and other assorted disruptions, the birthday party devolved into something like 27 separate events spread out over two weeks. I am sending myself an email to be delivered next February 1st detailing what an all-consuming exhausting pain in the ass this has been, and strongly suggesting that we take 10 kids to race go-karts for 2 hours and that is it. If your kid can’t make it, or has some personality disorder that turns him into a raging asshole when he is exposed to cake fumes or more than one child at a time, that’s too bad. No rain checks will be given, no alternative celebrations arranged.

Although the multiple parties have helped establish a revised guest list for future sleepovers. The kid with the chronically weak bladder? Off the list. As is the bossy kid who throws a hissy fit when no one will listen to his extensive list of rules that ensure he will win a game. Also off the list is the kid who screams “Your bike is a piece of CRAP!” because he can’t ride it.

The great thing about my kid is that I never have to tell him this stuff. After the obnoxious kids left and there were just a couple of the good ones still hanging out playing video games, I walked through the living room, and he glanced up and said, “Notice anything different? That’s the sound of Good Manners.”

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