The Birthday Dinner that Wasn’t

My granddaughter just turned two. Her parents and my husband and I planned a pizza and cupcake dinner at our apartment to celebrate—complete with gifts and singing, of course. Unfortunately, midday on the Big Day my daughter texted that the birthday girl had vomited. With toddlers, one never knows if stomach upsets are a fluke or an illness, so we decided to wait and see.

A couple of hours later, another text said Birthday Girl had had a good nap and seemed perky. The party was on. They ordered pizza and picked it up. I tidied up our apartment. My daughter texted to say they were on their way.

The next text came from our apartment parking lot. Birthday Girl had thrown up in the car . . . could I please bring paper towels? No party—that was clear. She’d caught the stomach bug circulating at her day care center.

I rushed downstairs with a roll of paper towels, another of wet wipes, and our birthday presents. I found son-in-law cleaning the car, while daughter and granddaughter waited in the lobby. (It was cold—snow flurries drifted down intermittently all day.)

I chatted with my daughter and coaxed a smile from my granddaughter, though I kept my distance. At prompting from her mother, the Birthday Girl announced she was “doo!” She can count to three—one more than is needed for her age. But I don’t think she knows what counting is. All she knows is that one must recite “one-two-three” before knocking over a tower of blocks or opening one’s eyes in hide-and-seek. And, apparently, one must say “two” when asked how old one is.

That was all the birthday celebration my husband and I enjoyed. We were sorry to miss the pizza and cupcakes. And sorrier to miss the presents and singing. But most of all, we were sorry our granddaughter was sick. But there will be other, healthier birthdays in her future, and we hope to participate in those.

I was reminded of her mother’s arrival. My husband and I had a fancy gala to attend, and instead I spent the evening in labor . . . about 18 days early. Babies and toddlers make planning difficult.

I was also reminded of our daughter’s second birthday, when she announced it was her “Happy Two Day!” I can’t remember how far she could count then, but she definitely had the “two” down pat.

Our granddaughter is over the epizootic now, and her parents are hoping they stay healthy. Me, I’m hoping I stayed far enough away not to infect myself, my husband, or the rest of our retirement community. And I’m already waiting for her to turn three.

When have your celebrations been spoiled by illness?