The one with the birthday party

I (Finnur) hastily left work at the end of today to pick up my 4yr old son from daycare. The reason for the rush was that I had been assigned the duty of driving him to a birthday party of a boy who lives in our neighborhood. I must admit, I feel a bit guilty having not gotten to know the vast majority of the parents of the kids that either of our kids attend class with (nor the kids, for that matter). No time for guilt, though, so I picked my son up and drove him to the house where the party was at. And sure enough, there was a party going on — I could hear it from the parking lot. I parked the car in the driveway right outside the house and proudly claimed: “We’re here!!”.

“Where?” he asked, looking a bit bewildered, but proudly carrying a birthday present wrapped in blue wrapping paper with a bow tie.
“At Njordur’s birthday party”, I replied enthusiastically.
“Who is he?”, he asked, somewhat indignantly.
And then it struck me.

The email invitation we had received wasn’t very specific. It didn’t say who was invited nor how old the boy was becoming — only that the birthday boy was having a party (plus an address and a time and instructions to bring warm clothes for the little ones because they’d be going outdoors). Then a follow-up email saying, “Sorry, small mix-up: we meant to invite just the boys!!”.

I didn’t leave the car because I had a strong feeling I might make a fool of myself by ringing the doorbell to present my son for the party so I decided to call home on my mobile to ask my daughter if she knew someone called Njordur.

“Yes, there’s a boy called Njordur in my class”, she replied.
“I’m on my way home now”, I quickly replied, feeling rather embarrassed.

On my way home I thought about what could have happened. See, in Iceland people drop off their kids at these parties, kiss them at the doorstep and pick them up a couple of hours later. I started imagining the uncomfortable conversation with the mother/father of the birthday boy at the attempted drop-off. Or the uncomfortable conversation at the pickup, if the birthday boy had by mistake been let in.

I’m sure my son would have enjoyed it, but I drove back thinking how idiotic it would have been to show up with my son at a birthday party that my 4-year-senior daughter almost (by mistake) got invited to. 🙂 “Supplies!!”. I guess you can file this one under #oneofthosedays. 🙂