I moved through the party feeling proud of myself for throwing this all together and keeping it mostly under control, while also vowing that I’d never host something this big again.
At one point, Ellie slipped in beside me. “You’re doing too much,” she said softly.
I let out a laugh. “I always do. You know that.”
“I could’ve helped more before people got here.”
“You already did a lot.”
“You’re doing too much.”
For half a second, I let myself feel grateful she was there.
Then Will shrieked from somewhere under the tables. A little later, I spotted him crawling out from beneath a tablecloth with two other kids. He looked like he’d been raised outside by cheerful raccoons.
His knees were grass-stained, and his hands were filthy.
“Oh my God,” I said, catching him by the wrist. “Come here.”
Will twisted, laughing. “Mommy, no.”
He looked like he’d been raised outside by cheerful raccoons.
“We are not cutting the cake with you like this.”
“But I’m playing.”
“You can play after. Come on.”
I led him into the house, set him on a chair by the kitchen sink, turned on the faucet, and started scrubbing his hands. Will kept grinning at me.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You can play after. Come on.”
