Excerpt
An Invitation to a Birthday Party
My daughter’s twelfth birthday party was a nightmare, a social train
wreck. It was, of course, a sleepover. I still have the photos of the group at
breakfast, seated around the dining room table: sluggish, cranky, ready to go
home. And I was ready for them to go. There had been moments during the party
the night before when I wanted to send them all packing instantly. “Get
out,” I wanted to shout. “You’re all mean! You’re all
horrible.”
My daughter, Joanna, now sixteen, has long since forgotten that party.
It’s ancient history to her; she has moved on with her life. When I
reminded her recently of the events of that night, she gave a shrug of
acknowledgment and went back to what she was doing. I can’t forget it that ...
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