PTA Christmas Party

Friday evening was the early childhood PTA Christmas party, and Liza was so excited about the idea of going to a party (where she was assured there would be cupcakes and juice boxes) that she kept hounding me about it all day. "Potty? Potty? Can we go to the potty NOW?" Shame those two words sound so much alike, at least coming out of a two-year-old's mouth.

She only had about 45 minutes of nap that day, and I knew this party was going to be packed (80 families, most with several children), so I was fully prepared to bail at the first sign of meltdown. Predictably enough, we got there, the place was packed, the DJ had the Christmas music blaring, and Liza wanted nothing to do with crafts or anything that didn't involve clinging to me with both hands, both legs, and a couple other bits I'm not sure I can even identify.

And then we got her a snack and a juice box, and suddenly all was right with the world and she could go out and act like a normal kid. She was one giant cupcake-fueled blur for the next two hours.

One of the party organizers had brought a whole bunch of toddler toys from home, and Liza was determined to make the most of the opportunity.

The flurry of running ceaselessly from one toy to the next was interrupted only by a trip to see Santa, who had a cheap costume and a bad beard, but nonetheless managed to scare the crap out of my kid.

"Santa give Liza a gift. That nice man."

"No, you stay over there, Santa."

All three of us are looking at the camera, and we're close enough that Santa is actually in the shot with us, so that counts as a success, right?

I still can't believe how well it went. She had a great time, managed to not screw up her expensive dress (although it's going to take some doing to get the grey scunge off the feet of her tights from running around without shoes on for two hours in a middle school cafeteria), and handled the crowd and the other kids well. She took turns, moved out of the way so the babies could get to the slide, and whined very little.

Of course, since Jason and I know absolutely no one in the PTA, we got to stand around like dorks for two hours while the kid played ... but at least we got pizza and soda out of it.