The 10-year-old’s birthday falls at the lag-end of the Winter Break. Much as we celebrate her, it’s a dreadful time for a friends’ party: everyone’s over-traveled, overspent and generally nursing a revelry hangover. So this year, we threw her a half-year gathering instead. She wanted seven girls for a slumber party. And doughnuts. And indoor trampolining. And a new Marvel film in the mancave with Dad delivering buckets of buttery popcorn.
They were awake until 1:30, reading one another’s minds and whispering and squealing like toothless timing belts, and it was “the best birthday yet.”