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Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Voila the inspiration behind this blog

In the past ten days, our boys Noah and Sam have caught a nasty bug. It's not tied to swine or foul, equine, or even Velociraptor. In fact its origins are somewhat of a mystery. Having consulted the finest  journals, I've determined the medical term for the condition must be yourenotcomingtomybirthdaypartyitis (Latin: yourenotcomingtomybirthdaypartitia). Yourenotcomingtomybirthdaypartyitis can occur in children of all ages, although it seems that three and five-year-olds are most susceptible. Symptoms include, but are not limited to:
  • Red face
  • Grimacing
  • Growling
  • Huffing and/or Puffing
  • Gnashing of teeth
  • And (most notably) sudden outbursts of the phrase "You're not coming to my birthday party!" Most disturbingly, flare-ups typically occur months away from the child's next birthday party, leaving parents flummoxed while attempting to maintain a current invite list.
I figure Noah and Sam must be in the throes of this unforgiving maladie because at least eleven times a day an unmistakable "You're not coming to my birthday party!" comes from one of their petit yet potent lips. Tell them to clean their room and "You're not coming to my birthday party!" Ask them to eat their corn and "You're not coming to my birthday party!" Today was especially worrisome as at dinner I was informed that our cat Sasha almost bit our dog Benny and thus, you guessed it, was not coming to either of their birthday parties.

The best way to combat yourenotcomingtomybirthdaypartyitis is to confuse the infected child by responding randomly to their uninvited demands. For example, this morning I asked Noah to cross the street with me while walking Sam to school. A normal request, I thought, given that he would otherwise be smooshed by an oncoming wall of traffic. With "You're not coming to my birthday party!" busting forth, I informed him that I was in charge of his birthday party this year and would no longer be ordering dancing llamas. A lie? Perhaps, but by his perplexed stare I could tell that Noah was indeed reconsidering his disinvitation. And that, my friends, is what you call a medical breakthrough.

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