But if we were on our own, sans child, we would probably call the hosts ahead, to check who'd be coming and how long before we get back home. Simply put, we're typically the first ones to arrive, the first ones to leave. We're crazy party animals that way, too cool to stay on. (ya, rrrright!)
Ever since the little one arrived, things have drastically changed. We still try to be among the first ones to arrive, because well, she wants us to "get there faster" and she likes to socialize with everyone. Everyone. It's like we're just her chauffeurs taking her to her destination. As soon as she sees people, she'll go talk to them - young, old, small, big - she doesn't discriminate that way. Unless of course, there is a little girl, in which case, she will try and devote a chunk of her time to play with her. She can ignore all boys as if they didn't exist, if there's a girl around.
And DD will play, perform (she loves to sing and dance), do gymnastics, till it's time to go. Who decides when it's time to go you ask? Well, it's the mother of the second- last child leaving, because obviously, our child is the last.
That's probably the only 'punishment' that works for DD. "You will not get to meet people or play with your friends."
Even so, with her power to negotiate and will to never take 'No' for an answer, she will try to convince us or melt our hearts with her cute little smile, and innocent eye-batting (they still look innocent).
We dread parties, she lives for them. Today, the only way I could get her out of a serious discussion with her school teacher about the age of her car, was to tell her that we were going to a party and were getting late. "Bye Ms Laura" she immediately replied. "Mamma, I want to change first."
"Yes, your highness!"
While Her Majesty is getting ready, I try to connect with my mom. "We're going out today, 'Ma."
"That's nice. Where are you going?"
"There's a get-together in her school."
"When will you be back?Your father may want to talk to you. He's not here right now."
"When DD feels like." I say.
"Ha ha. No, seriously." Amma laughs.
I wish I were joking.