I thought we were finished with celebrating our 35th anniversary, but, no. I was wrong.
W.R.O.N.G!
Our children had another idea.
For five months, our two daughters and twin sons plotted and schemed and planned a blow-out party for their completely clueless parents. Living in four different states didn’t dissuade them. Studying for the Bar (Hattie) and Army training for a month in the California desert (Lane) and other life stuff didn’t deter them.
They had weekly Facetime meetings with spreadsheets and IPRs (In-Progress Reports, thank you, Captains Lane and Quinn) and lists and lists and lists. They had reconnaissance missions on visits home. They ordered a tent and a dance floor and a DJ and food.
Our tent looked like a Hallmark movie!
They sent out invitations with an RSVP and a dress code–semi-formal–seriously? And guess what? People kept it a secret for months and came dressed up!
Finally, they let us in on the secret–or at least part of it–on Thursday night. That’s when three (Anna, Hattie, and Quinn) came home instead of the one we were expecting. The fourth one (Lane) arrived about thirty hours later.
Through Friday and Saturday, they revealed other parts of the secret until at the party, we were surprised over and over with the attendees.
I danced with my husband, my sons, and my daughters.
We might look awkward, but we had FUN!
We had a night to remember.
We have children we don’t deserve.
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