It was a momentous occasion. I had our table pulled away from the kitchen and into the living room so that more than three people could sit at it. I had my beautiful black and white polka dot plates set carefully around it. Strawberry lemonade was made and in the fridge. My handy-dandy stepstool was set up along with our only three chairs (it is my special seat when four or more people grace our table). Hamburgers were on the grill, fries in the oven, and macaroni and cheese on the stove.
Who, you ask, could possible be visiting our humble little abode that would require such special preparation?
Grandma and Grandpa, of course!
Little did they know that we had ulterior motives.
Of course, we wanted them to come over for dinner. I had been meaning to invite them. But the fact that my mom was planning a surprise birthday party for them that evening might have had something to do with the timing.
Grandma and Grandpa’s birthdays are mere days apart. They are three years apart in age. We won’t discuss exactly how young they are, but let’s just say that Grandpa is celebrating a milestone… and it might start with an “8” and end with a “0” (andgrandmaisthreeyearsolderthanhim).
The deal was this: Grandma knew there was a surprise party… but she believed it to be only for Grandpa, when in fact, it was for both of them. We knew there was no way to get the whole thing past her (she knows everything), so we gave her enough information to keep her content. Grandpa knew nothing, except that he was coming to our house for hamburgers.
Jonathan and I had a strategy prepared in case we faced a situation where Grandpa didn’t want to leave our house: we would tell him that my mom had text me and made dessert, and we were all invited. If dessert was involved, we figured he’d go right along with us.
We ate our hamburgers, finished up our fries, and I washed the dishes while Grandpa regaled Jonathan with stories about growing up Amish. I couldn’t take one eye off the clock in the kitchen. Grandma kept glancing at her watch. Jonathan looked at his watch every time Grandma looked at hers. We were all anxiously awaiting 5:55… the time we were supposed to leave for mom and dad’s house.
At 5:53 I reached for my shoes.
“Are you ready to go?” Grandma asked me.
“Yep!” I told her.
“Where are we going?” Grandpa wondered.
“Oh, Mrs. Carol just text Lacey and told her she made dessert for all of us… we’re going to go over there and eat it,” Jonathan told him.
I hoped Grandpa wouldn’t pick up on the fact that I hadn’t looked at my phone all night, or wonder how both Jonathan and Grandma would know about this since we had all been in the same room all night.
He didn’t ask. He just followed us out the door.
“I just had to lie to Grandpa,” Jonathan told me grumpily when we got into our car. “I did not like that.”
The surprise party was a surprise. I was a little afraid Grandpa would fall over again when he saw all the people waiting for him.
Grandma told us that she suspected the party may have been for her, too… of course.
There were a lot of people there to celebrate Grandma and Grandpa living another year.It was a drop-in, so they were able to relax in their seats while people came and went. When you’re the birthday boy and girl, you shouldn’t have to get up and circulate anyway… they should all come to you, right?
Unless, of course, you need to go get ice cream.
There were people of many different ages there to celebrate.
And some of the younger guests painted an art gallery of pictures for Grandma and Grandpa!
They had to spend some time interpreting the contents of the paintings… it was very impressionistic, you know.
It was a good party. Thank you to everyone who came to celebrate with us… they are definitely two people worth celebrating. =)
Grandpa had a bit of an accident last week. The bruises that were on his forehead seem to have sunk, and now they are down around his eyes. I told him he should wear his wounds proudly… they are battle scars. I believe he took my advice.
By the way, the only reason I could get Grandpa to let me post this picture is by telling him he may get a bunch of sympathy cards in the mail from my blog readers. Just saying. If you need an address to send that to, shoot me an email… it might help him heal faster. =)