A couple of weeks ago my third-grade daughter received an invitation to a birthday party. She's had a difficult year socially, being one of those bookish girls and all. Fortunately she has a few odd-duck friends to hang out with, so she's not completely alone.
In any case, she received an invitation to a party and she was really excited. As a mother, however, I was a bit concerned. The invitation was handwritten on a white, lined index card. Now I love index cards as much as the next person, but they aren't usually used as party invitations. My daughter assured me, however, that this invitation was the real deal and that she and her two friends were all invited.
(As a side note I have to add here that my daughter's name is Anna and her two friends are both named Anya. My daughter, as a 1/2 Russian child, should have been called Anya and all Russian friends and relatives call her Anya, but our 9,000 person town seems to have a surplus. She's Anna at school. The party hostess is named Abby. They're quite a team.)
On the evening before the party my daughter arrived home and told me that the party time had changed from 3 to 6pm. And, she had a scrap of paper with third-grade handwriting to prove it.
Next afternoon we show up at the party, gift in tow. The Anyas are with moms as well and everyone's excited. At the park there is only one large church party. We don't recognize anyone there, but ask around, "Is this Abby's party?"
"No!" they answer. "We have an Abby, but it's not her birthday."
Flummoxed we wander the park until finally my daughter spots the party hostess. She had invited the three girls to the church picnic as if it were her birthday party. Her mom was so embarrassed!
One of the Anyas said, "That's not fair. She invited us to a party that wasn't real."
I told her, "It could be worse. You could be Abby right now!"