The other day we learned that Edward, age 15, thinks that tongs are called “egg holders.”
One of my friends goes with her husband and kids to Disney every year, and it is one of those things that is a big part of Their Family Identity: they are A Disney Family. Annual matching family t-shirts, mouse-eared family stickers on the car, using a Disney family photo for their Christmas card, etc. I tell you this so that you will understand why the necessary cancellation of this trip is especially disappointing for them: it’s the blow felt by everyone who has had to cancel a vacation/event due to the pandemic, plus the additional blow of losing something that is an important ritual for them, plus the additional blow of breaking their streak.
To somewhat ease this disappointment, they are doing something that seems fun to me, though I could see how for other people it might hit as extra sad. But to me it seems fun, and this is what it is: they are doing an at-home version of SOME of the things they would be doing on their Disney trip, using a schedule of what they WOULD have been doing each day. It’s not at all meant to replace or compensate for the lost vacation; it’s more like…finding a few little happy things in spite of the disaster. So for example, on the day they were supposed to have left for this vacation, my friend posted that normally they would be packing the car and heading out at 7:00 a.m. with one last stop at [particular favorite local coffee shop] to pick up breakfast on their way out of town, and so she got curbside pick-up at that coffee shop and brought it home, and that’s what they had for breakfast. She said they always stop for lunch at [particular chain restaurant] on their travel day, so she went online and found a dupe recipe for what they always order, and she made it at home and they had it for lunch. Meanwhile they are playing all their Disney CDs as they usually would in the car on the way there, and they have their usual car activities (magazines, travel snacks, puzzle books, Disney trivia cards) on the dining room table, and they are watching all their Disney movies, and they have all the photo albums out of previous trips. I don’t know, I can see how it could feel a little bleak, but it comes across more like salvaging what they can + remembering other fun trips + the diverting and creativity-stimulating project of thinking about what they can do/make/eat that would be reminiscent of those trips.
We had our first awkward situation of needing to RSVP a no for an in-person birthday party. I’d been kind of dreading it. “Dreading” is overstating it, but I can’t think of a milder word. Perhaps I could have said “anticipating it warily.” Anyway it happened: Henry was invited to a birthday party at the kind of place that hosts children’s birthday parties, followed by an indoors restaurant meal. Happily the mom who contacted me did so by email so I had time to work out how to respond, and also happily she included a list of precautions they would be taking (masks, hand sanitizer, only three children and one adult at the party) but also said she completely understood if we didn’t feel comfortable, so I didn’t feel like she was someone who though the pandemic was a ridiculous hoax and/or someone who would scoff at me for declining. I was actually more worried that by declining I would accidentally send the vibe that we disapproved of their plans/invitation. Sometimes my social anxieties are unfounded, but from the careful wording of her invitation I DO think there was a chance she was worried about that. So I responded with happiness to have received the invitation, a sorrowful inability to accept (with a brief, non-identifying mention of an immunosuppressed person in our household), and a cheerful instruction to wish the child a happy birthday from Henry and me.
Social interaction can be so tricky. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could beam over a little mental packet of what we INTEND to communicate?








