Time is of the Essence

Granddaughter Sophie’s 3^rd birthday is coming in just a few weeks.  Last week I asked her what kind of birthday party she wanted and she immediately responded that she did not want a birthday party.

This was an alarming response since I knew that regardless the source of her reason, I was going to be blamed.  In an effort to extricate myself from something I did not do, I began the cross examination.

Me:                  “Why don’t you want to have a birthday party?”

Sophie:            “Because I’ll be 3 and I won’t be able to play anymore.”

Sophie’s logic:

Three year olds can’t play.

If I don’t have a birthday party, I didn’t have a birthday.

If I don’t have a birthday I’m still two years old.

If I’m two, I can continue to play.

While Sophie’s logic was flawless, her premises were faulty.  In an effort to reduce her stress over the effects of aging, I continued to ask questions.

The first thing I needed to know was who told Sophie that three year olds don’t get to play?  Frankly, if I could correct this premise I was home free; we could throw a birthday party and eat cupcakes.  All good debates and cross examinations should end in eating cupcakes.

Me:                  “Who told you that three year olds can’t play?”

Sophie:            “Puppy”

The problem had now taken an unexpected turn.  Sophie has had “puppy” (a small white stuffed animal with pink polka dots) since birth.  Puppy is Sophie’s most trusted confidant and adviser. 

Sophie’s mom, Michelle, purchased two puppies to have a spare in the event that one was lost or damaged beyond repair.  While purchasing two puppies was good thinking, somewhere along the line Sophie figured out there were two puppies and started to refer to the original as “old puppy.”  Now I had to figure out which one of these little rascals was the culprit.

Me:                  “Which puppy told you that?”
Sophie:            “Old puppy.”

Now we were getting somewhere.  I was instantly disappointed in old puppy, since I had expected a higher level of intellect and wisdom to be demonstrated by Sophie’s oldest and best friend.  But, alas, he had failed us and I simply did not have time to spend questioning him as to the source of his comment.  I can tell you this, he will be 3 at roughly the same time Sophie will turn three and I doubt seriously that he will stop playing.

The mystery was solved by my good friend Phil.  I explained the situation and he patiently listened (even though he’s secretly wishing I’d quit boring him with grandpa stories – he still has 3 kids at home).  After I explained it he simply said “dog years” – old puppy is turning 21.  Sophie is turning 3 and puppy is officially an adult (no more play).

All’s well that ends well.  Yesterday Donna asked Sophie about her birthday and she said she wanted a “Snow White” party.  She wants us all to dress up as characters – that’s right – there will be two 6 foot dwarfs at the party.

She was specific about which of the dwarfs each family member would have to become.  I think I got the best character, Happy.  When asked who was going to be Grumpy, she selected Puppy. 

What goes around comes around.