I scream about birthdays

Snuggler's home from camp, tan and cheerful. No complaints at all. I suspect she lost about half of the clothes she took with her, and in their stead brought back a lifetime collection of crafts.

I spent much of Snuggler's time away jettisoning junk at a rate of five to seven shopping bags a day. Last night she arrived home, looked around, and said, without sarcasm, "It's too clean in here. We need to mess it up!" Then she bent down over her duffel and proceeded to fling clothing out of her bag. I kid you not.

This morning she asked about having a birthday party, since she's turning ten this week. I suppose the request is a direct result of having spent two weeks in uber-social mode at camp. Or it could be because she hasn't had a party in two years. (I don't generally volunteer to bake cakes in the middle of July in an apartment without air conditioning. And by the time fall rolls around and it's cool enough to think again, I've forgotten about throwing a party.)

I'd actually made a genuine attempt to schedule an art workshop/party for her at a friend's studio, but we haven't come up with a date yet. So in a moment of resigned inspiration this afternoon I proposed an ice cream party. For Wednesday. This week. Yes, the heat has gone to my head.

What does one do at an ice cream party, you ask? I'm not sure, but I suppose it will be easier to plan than her seventh birthday, when she requested an immigration theme. (Come to think of it, that might have been her last party...) I'm thinking I'll buy some tubs of cheap ice cream and have the girls make animal sculptures, and surely I can manufacture a party game that involves sprinkles, and then, of course, we can do many things with whipped cream. At the end they can eat good ice cream, gussied up with sauces and goodies and non pareils.


We ordered ice cream bowls to use as party favors (pictured here), and I have a couple of other ideas as well. But if you've got any great ideas, let me know.