SuperWoman has met her high-maintenance match with her progeny, TalkMonster. Especially now that he’s turning six.
(SuperWoman, despite her super-ness, would really like an instruction manual for how to deal with an almost-six year-old who alternates between knowing everything—including how she should drive—and bursting into tears over the unfairness of life.)
TakMonster has a lot of ideas about what his birthday party should be like. He’s been planning for an entire year. First, the party was going to be at a gym, one of those places where you spend a ton of money and kids jump until they drop and then go into a yellow room for pizza and cake. SuperWoman was not into those places, until last year she discovered the joy of not having to clean her house or make goody bags herself. Not only that, TalkMonster said it was “the best birthday ever.” She has that on video.
Now that TalkMonster is in kindergarten, though, and has spent the year observing and participating in about 12 other six-year-old parties, he’s decided that this affair must be in his very own house. Apparently, in kindergarten, house parties are the up-and-coming thing.
Nevermind that their house doesn’t have room for 20 kids, or that she will have to make the goody bags herself and clean. (As far as SuperWoman knows, TalkMonster does not plan on scrubbing toilets in preparation for the event.)
Attire: TalkMonster would like his partygoers to wear pajamas.
Menu: SuperWoman suggested a menu of pancakes to go along with the pajama theme, but TalkMonster put his hands up and refused. “Pizza and chocolate cake. A party must have pizza and chocolate cake.” He put his finger to his chin and thought for a minute. “Skylander cake.”
Activities: TalkMonster would also like a pinata and an Easter egg hunt.
Goody bags: TalkMonster would like all male children to receive a Skylander and all female children to receive a Barbie. SuperWoman has no idea where he learned such gender specificity. And also, fat chance.
Special request: TalkMonster chartered new territory with this next one. He has made it a practice of noticing when SuperWoman leans over and the back of her shirt rides up a little, exposing a thin sliver of pale white back. He corrects this problem by diligently pulling down her shirt and recommending she wear longer shirts on a daily basis. SuperWoman usually furrows her brow and carries on with her day.
But with his birthday party coming up, TalkMonster has decided that more extreme actions are necessary.
Last week, on the first day of spring break, he stood next to SuperWoman as she picked up cracker crumbs and said, “I hope you don’t wear that shirt on my birthday.” SuperWoman smirked. He began to walk away, but then turned back, struck with the most remarkable idea. “I think you should wear a dress, actually.”
SuperWoman, as you might expect, was dumbfounded. She doesn’t really do dresses. “What is the big deal about my shirt riding up a little? No one cares about that!” (In fact, Superwoman does care about that a little, just not when she’s walking around the house.) When did her son become such a prude? More importantly, why is he such a prude?
He sighed and tilted his head and said in the most gentle voice, “One day, you’ll understand.”
SuperWoman thinks that instead of that video game system he wants, she may just get him a headset and a clipboard so he can further practice telling everyone what to do.
Where did age 5 go? There are 27 days left, but SuperWoman already misses it.
Instead of a dress, SuperWoman plans to wear her long, shiny cape. It’s a party outfit that’s long overdue.