Kishore Singh: Birthday blahs

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As I write this, I imagine my daughter standing somewhere next to a kiosk in her school, feeding a frenzy of schoolgirls who, last we'd heard, were supposed to come home for lunch.

"Why can't they come same as your other friends, for a regular birthday party?" my wife had asked. "Because," my daughter replied, "my school friends don't know my other friends, and vice versa, so no one will talk to each other, and that can't be fun. Besides," she added, "my birthday's on Friday, and I'm having my friends over on Sunday, so how will they come?"

"I don't suppose their parents might want to drop them over?" I hesitated a reply. "Parents never want anyone to have fun," my daughter riposted, "so nobody'll end up coming. Besides, we have a unit test for Sanskrit on Monday for which they'll be studying, which is why their parents might not let them come."

"So will they come on Friday?" my wife asked. "There's school on Saturday, so I hardly think they'll want to come for a silly birthday party on Friday," my daughter said, "and so I'll ask them to come home with me in the schoolbus on Saturday."

After we'd worked out the details "" no birthday party on Friday, schoolgirls over on Saturday, neighbours and other friends on Sunday "" it was decided we should ring the parents to inform them of our intention to have their little girls over for lunch on Saturday. "I'll have to inform my friends first, and then you can tell the parents," my daughter corrected us.

Seeing that we weren't celebrating her birthday on Friday, my wife and I decided we'd have some grown-ups over for dinner. And on Saturday we accepted a dinner invitation from a friend and declined another from my sister-in-law for her birthday lunch on Sunday, as we intended to be busy looking after our daughter's friends.

Meanwhile, my daughter had informed us that half the population of the class being female, besides having friends in a few other sections, she was expecting 30-35 school friends over for lunch on Saturday, and seeing how she had so many friends in the neighbourhood, we should expect another 20 for her party on Sunday. "Isn't that rather a lot?" my wife reprimanded her. "I can't help it if I'm popular," she exclaimed.

By Tuesday, my daughter had scaled down the list of school friends to 15, and whittled it further to five by Wednesday. On Thursday, she said there seemed no point in having a lunch party if only one classfellow was going to come over on the schoolbus, and so maybe she'd just treat them to a soda-and-sandwich each at the school cafeteria.

Simultaneously, it appeared that her neighbours were unsure of their attendance on Sunday, the reasons ranging from studying for their unit tests on Monday to having to attend theatre classes, or spending the day with their parents. And so, it was decided that we would join my sister-in-law at her celebrations on Sunday, instead, and choose another day for our daughter's birthday a weekend or two later.

Now, it appears she's upset because, while she's not celebrating her birthday, it appears that we are. "It's my birthday on Friday," she pointed out, "but you're the ones treating yourselves to a dinner party." True. "Then," she added, "I was to have a lunch party on Saturday, but you're the ones going out for a party instead."

Again, true. "Finally," she accused, "instead of hosting my birthday party, you're going to my aunt's birthday party, so it seems you've hijacked my birthday to have yourselves a good time. Parents," she reminded me, "just don't want their children to have fun any more."