Play Dates (38 page)

“Hey. It’s me. I hope you don’t have plans for Monday morning, ’cause, if it’s all right with you, tomorrow might turn into kind of a late night. And I promise to give you a real lesson in how to dress down.” His answer made me smile.

Dear Diary:

Ashley’s not my best friend anymore. She came over to my house
after school for a play date yesterday. That’s how it started. MiMi
picked us up from school because Mommy was working and she
gave us a snack and Ashley said she didn’t like the snack because
she doesn’t like cheese and MiMi said that Mommy told her she
was supposed to give us something healthy and Ashley didn’t
want anything that MiMi said was good for us.

Aunt MiMi was getting mad, I think, because Ashley didn’t
want to eat any of the things that MiMi said we could have.

And MiMi opened the cabinet where we keep the cookies and
she took the box of Oreos and she threw it on the table and
she said, “Here! I don’t care what you eat. You’re a spoiled
brat!”

And I didn’t think that was nice for MiMi to say that to Ashley because she’s my best friend. And Ashley started to cry and
told MiMi that cookies are junk and HER Mommy never lets her

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have cookies for snack after school. And then Mommy came home
from work and wanted to know why I was crying. I said I was
crying because MiMi was mean to Ashley. And Mommy asked
why Ashley was crying and Ashley said it was because Aunt
MiMi said she was a spoiled brat because of the Oreos and because she didn’t want to eat any of the food that MiMi said we
could have for a snack.

And Mommy looked like she was trying hard not to laugh and
to be very serious. And MiMi put her hands in the air and said to
Mommy, “I don’t envy you!” I asked Mommy what envy means.

She said envy is being jealous of somebody. I used to be jealous of
Ashley because she has a summer house with ponies and a real
movie theater but I’m not anymore, because I wouldn’t want to
have a mommy who wouldn’t let me eat cookies.

Mommy was still wearing her spring coat and had her pocketbook on her shoulder, but she made us fruit cup with fresh fruit
from scratch not out of a can. And then she said when we finished our snack we should start our homework even though tomorrow is a weekend. Mommy always likes it when we do my
homework on Friday after school so we can both play on the
weekend but we don’t always finish it on Friday. Like my big
projects. We have to design a city. But Mrs. Hennepin said that
we have all of Easter vacation to do it. We have to build a dio-rama and we have to pick what kind of government we have and
who is in it and make a budget and say how much money it will
take to pay the firemen and the policemen and the teachers and
all the people who will be working for the city to make it run.

Mommy sat at the table and helped Ashley and me with our
homework. We have a lot of math and it’s really hard. I’m still
confused. Sometimes I get the right answers but I don’t know why
they’re right. I figure it out on my fingers even though I’m not supposed to. And we have spelling words to practice, too. When we
took out our homework Mommy said something really quietly
about being a hands-on mom. After she said it she looked at
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MiMi and MiMi made one of her funny faces where she rolls her
eyes around. Tennyson, Ashley’s sister, makes a face like that all
the time when she thinks someone is being stupid, which is a
word Mommy doesn’t like me to use. She says it’s not nice and I
should say silly instead.

After we did our homework I asked if we could play while
Mommy was making dinner. So Ashley and me went into my
room and we played dress-up. And I took out my Disney princess
dresses that Granny Tulia and Grandpa Brendan got for me and
I was going to be Belle because her yellow dress is my favorite and
Ashley was going to be Cinderella and as soon as I said I was
going to be Belle then Ashley said SHE wanted to be Belle and
she tried to take the dress away from me and I was holding onto
it really tight and part of it ripped. And I got really mad at Ashley and I yelled at her and said that I “called” the Belle dress first
and she picked Cinderella. Then she yelled back at me and she
pulled my hair and I tried to pull her hair back.

And Mommy and MiMi ran into my room and wanted to
know why we were fighting and why was it that there was so
much crying this afternoon and she said she thought we were best
friends. And I said I thought Ashley was my best friend too, but
then she wanted to dress up as Belle and she tore my dress. And
Ashley said she didn’t tear it. She said I tore it MYSELF. And I
said she MADE me tear it because she was trying to take it away
from me and I didn’t let her and that’s why it tore. And I don’t
think it can be fixed because it’s the floaty part that tore.

And then the telephone rang and I think it was Fireman Dennis because Mommy called the person “sweetheart.” She told the
person, “I can’t talk now, sweetheart, I’m breaking up a fight.”

Ashley said she wanted to go home. So Mommy asked Ashley
if she meant that for real and if she should call Ashley’s mommy
and ask her to take Ashley home. And Ashley said that her
mommy and daddy were going to dinner and to a Broadway
show so they weren’t home and that was why we were having a

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sleep-over. Because her mommy and daddy wouldn’t be home
until really late at night, past our bedtimes. And her nanny
wasn’t there at night and Tennyson was sleeping at a friend’s
house too.

We had dinner and Ashley and I weren’t fighting so much. We
played Barbies and watched a video and then we went to sleep.

But we didn’t sleep right away. We were talking a lot. And Ashley
said she was sorry for tearing my Belle dress. She didn’t sound a
lot like she meant it for real.

But we had an uh-oh in the morning because Ashley’s mommy
and daddy were supposed to pick her up at eleven o’clock but
they called Mommy on the telephone to say that they couldn’t do
it until the afternoon. And the uh-oh is that Mommy and I are
going to Lissa’s birthday party at Bruce Frank Beads at twelve
o’clock and I know that Ashley wasn’t invited because Lissa
doesn’t know her so she couldn’t invite her if she doesn’t know
her. And I went into Mommy’s room and I told her what are we
going to do? Then Mommy talked to Lissa’s mommy and Lissa’s
mommy said that it sounded like there was nothing Mommy
could do because she couldn’t leave Ashley alone, so Ashley could
come to the party because another little girl had canceled because
she had a sore throat so there would be enough places at the
table. And Mommy called Ashley’s mommy and told her where
Bruce Frank Beads is and that the birthday party ends at two
o’clock.

And then Fireman Dennis called again and Mommy said she
was getting ready to take me and a friend to a party so she
couldn’t talk a lot and she would see him tonight. He calls a lot
when Mommy and me are doing stuff and she always has to say
I’m sorry, can we talk later?

Chapter 20

It’s like pirate treasure! I can’t speak for Zoë, but it’s definitely the best kid birthday party
I’ve
attended in ages. I’m impressed. Melissa Arden might have had to winnow the quantity, in terms of her guest selection process—

as she said, the venue is modest in size—but she certainly didn’t skimp on quality. To save time, she pre-selected the beads, and there are little cups set out all over the big oak table, overflow-ing with vintage and semiprecious stones, Venetian glass, and glittering, funky findings. A bunch of seven- and eight-year-old little girls and their mommies are going to be taught over the next two hours to make necklaces, bracelets, and earrings from (among non-mineral media as well) peridot, coral, amethyst, carnelian, turquoise, garnet, and jade. I’m sure the mothers who are keeping score have already toted up what Melissa and Simon have laid out for the beads alone.

The Bruce Frank staffer is a friendly blonde named Casey. She must do the kids’ parties a lot because she’s got a great way with small girls who don’t seem to want to wait for instruction. They can’t wait to get started, and I can’t say I blame them. The mommies get to use the pointy pliers and wire cutters and we’re taught how to make loops and connect them. And with two long

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“head pins,” a few beads, and a pair of pre-made ear wires, it only takes about five minutes to make a really cool, totally unique pair of earrings. I find myself wanting to try all the different colors, and to experiment with mixing and matching media. We get a mini-class in knotting and the little girls are more adept with the needle and stringing paraphernalia than they are with the metal stuff.

I watch Zoë fashion a necklace with colorful glass beads and admire her aesthetics. She’s pretty good with the materials.

Some of the children are having trouble with the smaller findings; although the pieces are kid-size, it’s a coordination issue.

Casey suggests they make something out of the larger, nugget-sized stones. The whole point of the party is that every guest will go home with at least one piece of wearable jewelry that she made all by herself.

All the mommies and daughters sitting around the table makes me think of quilting bees. I compliment Melissa on choosing such a delightful venue. What a treat for us big and little girls to sit around a table for two hours—with time out for birthday cake, of course—and create pretty things together, as opposed to sitting around the dining table helping them with their homework—or, more specifically—using carrot and stick to coax, cajole, and coerce them into sitting down for more than ten minutes at a stretch to do something that has all the allure—

for both of us—of a vaccination.

The subject of homework presses everyone’s hot buttons.

Fractions introduced in preschool; math problems assigned to fifth graders that our generation didn’t see until junior high; science projects you need a B.S. to competently complete.

Melissa Arden bites a string, instead of clipping it with the scissors. “Lissa’s brother Will, who’s in sixth grade over at Ethical Culture, is supposed to redesign the New York City subway system by Monday.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll do a better job of it than what we’ve got now,” I say, “particularly with the signage.”

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Lissa sighs. “The really crazy part is that things like the subway project don’t get our knickers in a twist anymore. Simon and I have grown accustomed to the insanity of our children’s assignments. It’s appalling—the pressure the schools claim to be under to force-feed them overachievement. Last semester, Will had to publish a newspaper. Daily. For two straight weeks. With no cartoons, crosswords, or horoscopes.”

It’s as though a floodgate has been opened. My sisters in sorrow, even the quiet ones, are no longer shy about contributing to the discussion.

One of them, whose daughter is at Trinity, bubbles over with bile. “You wouldn’t believe what Cosette came home with the other day! They have to illustrate the Seven Deadly Sins. Isn’t that a little
advanced
for a
second grader
?”

“No!” chorus three other women.

“What
are
the Seven Deadly Sins?” Zoë asks.

Cosette herself is too focused on her necklace to respond, nor does she seem to evince interest in anything but the most intense concentration on stringing it together.

I expect an adult to begin to define or explain the concept of the sins for her, but some of the mommies start to list them.

Soon, the table resembles a bunch of contestants on a game show, trying to come up with the right answers for the adult version of a Seven Dwarves or Eight Reindeer question.

“Sloth,” says Ariadne Bernstein’s mom, Andrea.

Zoë looks quizzical. “What’s that mean?”

“Laziness,” Andrea says.

“Mommy would you finish this for me?” Laurel Browning asks, turning to the parent on her right. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Like that!
That’s
Sloth!” I joke, and we all laugh. Laurel blushes and picks up her bracelet again.

“Avarice,” says Melissa. “Don’t you like that word? I mean how it sounds.” She repeats it, savoring it, and the last syllable sounds like Pop Rocks exploding on her tongue.

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“What’s
that
one?”

“Avarice? It’s the same thing as greed,” I tell Zoë.

Ashley starts arguing with Juliet, the child to her left. “But I want some of the purple ones. You’re hogging them all!”

“I’m using them now. They’re mine,” Juliet insists, pulling the dish of amethysts closer to her beading board.

“Juliet, all of the beads are for everybody to share,” Melissa says gently. I wish I could master her tone of voice. Juliet immediately gives in. I can never get a kid to do that. Maybe it’s Melissa’s accent. Whatever it is, it produces results.

Zoë stands up and whispers in my ear. “Was that ‘Avarice’?

Juliet hogging the purple ones?” I nod.

“And there’s Pride, that’s another one,” says Molly O’Brien’s mother, Shoshana.

“And Envy. You know what that one means, Z. You just learned it yesterday.”