And then Bean came home yesterday and announced gleefully that the birthday boy in question SAYS HE HAS A SNAKE AT HOME AS LONG AS THE LUNCHROOM TABLE, MAMA AND WE GET TO HOLD IT AT THE PARTY!
And y'all? Call me a stick-in-the-mud if you have to, but that sorta clinched it for me. Because I had kicked around the idea of staying at the party with Bean, but A) THREE HOURS? and B) WITH A SNAKE? I told Al about it when he got home last night hoping he'd say, Oh, no. A snake, honey? Well, you just stay home, sweetheart, and I'll go to the party with Bean. But he didn't. Instead he said something that rhymes with SHUT-THE-BELL!? and then Oh she'll be MISSING this party, sister. The snake's a deal breaker.
And there you have it -- our daughter's social life, permanently sssssssstunted by her parents' shared ophidiophobia. Sad, isn't it?
Hey, get us invited to a party with eight-week-old golden retriever puppies? Or cute little sea otters? Or fuzzy bunnies? And we'll both gladly go and stay the whole time. The good news is, we're not afraid of animated gnomes or shamelessly punny farcical adaptations of legendary Shakespearean tragedies set to classic Elton John soundtracks, so I'm guessing there's a strategically-planned Family Movie Date on the FriedOkras' agenda right about party time.