My daughter met me at the office on one PD-Day she didn’t have school. She was bored at home and asked to come ‘hang out’ downtown. I was at work and given a lighter than usual day, I thought, What the heck. Come on down to my office and we’ll go for lunch.
We walked around the food courts and she pointed to a few restaurants. We had Chinese the night before, tacos were too messy for my suit, and soups and bowls were just too hot for the weather. Then I pointed out a fancy Japanese restaurant that my vendors used to take me for lunch. “Ooo, looks expensive, dad.” It is, but every time I come here, I’ve never paid so I have no idea. But it is very yummy. “Let’s go!” Clearly my daughter is a mini-me!
The waitress impressed my daughter by describing every fish that came to our table. We finished with green tea ice cream. Then she asked, “Can I have my birthday party here?”
In the months that followed, we had good discussions about setting a precedent on venue and cost. We limited the invitation. The prix fixe menu was decided as I didn’t want kids to order à la cart and discover that Japanese tacos are not the same as Mexican tacos (and much more expensive and would probably be left uneaten). And I asked her to speak to her mom about splitting the bill.
Her friends were excited to be invited to such an adult dinner party to celebrate my daughter’s birthday. They all asked if they needed to chip in and were concerned that they would not be able to pay. The kids were all very candid but gracious. “My mom and dad are picking up the bill,” my daughter explained.
This probably marked the beginning of these milestones that I will gradually observe from a distance.
There was lots of discussion with the restaurant before the fixed-menu, no extras, alcohol-free banquet was to be set up in a private corner of the establishment. We showed up early to meet the staff serving the party. My daughter also needed to arrive first to greet arriving guests. As soon as one of her friends showed up, I left.
The boisterous group was kept far away from the regular evening diners but not so far that the diners didn’t notice the birthday balloons floating about. The boys were in jackets and all the girls in dresses and heels. It was like a semi-formal without the dance. Neither of my daughter’s parents attended and so she felt she was the one and only hostess. She had a great time and at the end of the evening, I sent an Uber to pick her up so she could kick off her heels and bring home her balloons.
My daughter was very appreciative of her parents’ gesture and, in kind, her friends were very appreciative of the invitation which was the talk for a few days afterwards.
It also wasn’t something that I would do annually and that’s what made it special for everyone. We have not gone back to that restaurant since. Not because it wasn’t nice; it was! But for 364 days of the year, we are just regular folks living regular lives going to regular restaurants. Occasions like these are nice only because they are infrequent and special.
It wasn’t too long ago that birthdays and playdates were highly planned, coordinated and supervised events by the birthday parents. But as our kids dive headfirst into the teenage years, their separation from us is clearly evident. Even the incidental parent/parent friendships have fallen away. But I’m happy that my dad-group formed 14 years ago is still going strong—however membership has dwindled significantly to only a few now.
Many more birthdays will be celebrated and every year will be different. This probably marked the beginning of these milestones that I will gradually observe from a distance.
