Tradition, Tradition: Not The Fiddler On The Roof Song

 

Go big or go home. This is a popular saying these days. I think it’s a sports analogy, which explains why I have no idea what it actually means. But I applied what I think is its sentiment to the 6 year old’s birthday this past weekend.

We celebrated the birthday with joy and an emphasis on the forbidden, meaning we main lined sugar for 3 days straight, decorated her room so it looks like carny folk live in it (sorry, I mean decorated it in a tasteful, circus style) and embraced balloons.

You know my philosophy about balloons. I hate them. But the night before the 6 year old’s birthday I took my balloon-hating self to the grocery store, where I purchased 12 of them, in every color of the rainbow. Then I snuck into the 6 year old’s room and tied them to her bed. When she woke up the next morning for her birthday, there they were. Big, beautiful balloons everywhere you looked.

Nothing says birthday like balloons. Nothing says “I love you” like your peeps doing something for you that they really, really hate just because they know you’re going to really, really love it. So I grit my teeth through the weekend of balloon mayhem. And there was mayhem. All of the punting, kicking, slamming and popping that there usually is. But there was also the 7 year old’s, big, missing-tooth-filled smile.

So a new tradition’s been born, and it has nothing to do with baking (which I hate) or camp fire songs (which are tricky because I’m tone deaf). I can already tell that birthday balloon breakfast is going to be a keeper at our house. Try it at yours! It’s a big, beautiful, noisy way to say you care to all the members of your big, beautiful, noisy household.