by Maggie Downs posted in Life

When I turned 6, my parents threw the last birthday party I ever had. And I vividly remember why.
My birthday is in July, so a lot of my school classmates were away. Instead, my mom invited all the neighborhood kids. After digging into a grocery store cake, having an epic water balloon fight, and running through sprinklers in the backyard, everyone gathered around for the main event -- watching me open presents.
This is where things went wrong.
I received a couple of coloring books. An umbrella. Pink & Pretty Barbie. And painted rocks that were glued to a piece of cardboard.
It was that last thing that triggered me. Painted rocks" I just didn?t get it. Where was the gift" I tore the rocks off the cardboard and examined them before I threw them to the ground. Maybe there was something in the cardboard" I peeled the corrugated layers apart. What was this thing" That?s when I looked up. My mom, obviously, was horrified. And two kids from my neighborhood, who crafted this gift together, were mortified. One was crying. The other looked embarrassed. I will never forget the pain of that moment.
Now I?m a mother myself. Thus far I?ve managed to avoid the birthday party thing altogether for my son, because he just wasn?t old enough to know any better. But this year he will be 3, and he knows. Oh lordy, does he know. He asks for a birthday party almost every day.
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