Georgia’s birthday is coming up soon. She’s been planning it since February and there’s been no talk of how to go green while enjoying the fun and fruits of turning four.
“Mommy, I want a pink, silver, chocolate birthday cake for my birthday.”
“Again?” That was a toughie last year, though I managed to make it work with some pink sugar and clear sprinkles. And I did sneak in some whole wheat flour, a slight nod to health.
“Ohhhhkayyyy, a ladybug birthday cake!”
(Gulp. Any suggestions?)
So we’ve gone with a ladybug theme, and she’s been painting flowers for decorations, and we made potato print ladybug invitations. We’re trying to keep it simple, which I guess is a green idea, especially given the creeping extravagance and competition deemed necessary by some wacky folks [1].
But a birthday is about honoring a child’s life with presents and sugar, right? We’ve been steadily adding desirable items to her birthday list, [1] which seems like such a great tactic when we’re in the store. But now I’m growing a little worried that she expects everything on her list.
“You know that just because you want something doesn’t mean you will get it for your birthday, right?” I don’t want her to have unrealistic expectations.
“But will I still get this beautiful [or rather, sparkly, very cheaply made, googly antennae] pen?”
“Maybe, but we put things on your list so when someone asks me what you want for your birthday I can make suggestions. People also might want to make something for you, or choose something you haven’t even seen or thought of!”
I should admit to you that “the list” is really whatever scrap of paper I happen to have in my purse, and the only things that have made it to the real list are those that I think she’ll remember, or those that she’s repeated: ruby slippers, ant farm, roller skates, a real watch, face paints, and a Little Mermaid Bubble Blower. I hope the antennae pen and her own pink saw that really cuts wood won’t be missed.
It’s not a bad list, she’s not an unreasonable child, but now I’m thinking I blew it. Should I have been working toward a greener birthday? I could have had a toy swap, but how do you ask a four year old to get rid of toys for her birthday? If we had started that tradition at year one we might be able to pull it off now, but we didn’t. I thought of asking people to bring a favorite library book, but the responsibility of getting the books back on time made that one too impractical and stressful for me. Has anyone come up with a really good idea that honors the birthday girl, and her baser, normal, human ME! ME! ME! instincts, while still keeping to an eco-minded, less consumer-frenzied ideal?
I will use washable plates and cups—that shouldn’t be a problem with such a small party, but what about goody bags? I know they are essential, but they're filled with all the junk that ends up in the bottom of the toy box, the plastic erasers, pinchy rings, and useless compasses. I sneer at goody bags, opting instead for one decent, fun thing for the kids to take away, and some candy of course. But this year Georgia keeps raiding the gift-wrap container and pulling out big Christmas gift bags I’ve saved.
“We can use these for goody bags at my birthday party!!!” She’s very excited, they are huge and what could be more fun than a bag with a snowman or Santa? (Well, they’d finally get reused, so maybe it’s not such a bad idea. I can’t throw them out, but they aren’t my style, so there they sit… But how on earth would I fill that thing?)
“I don’t think we need a goody bag. Everyone will win one of the flowers you painted, with a [really cool spinning, flipping, wind-up] ladybug [2] on it. They will get to keep the beanbags that we made for the beanbag game. Everyone will get a big lollipop; do we have to have a goody bag too?”
“Mommy, it will be too much for their hands to carry!”
Ohhhhh, I get it. It’s about the bag, not the goodies. She’s not asking for more, she just wants people to be comfortable with what they have. Maybe we’ll use those Christmas bags after all, and maybe keeping things simple is a good first step.