Roller Queen
I have a thing about elaborate kid birthday parties. The birthday girl or boy opens a mound of presents, plastic wrap and paper flying, and the gift each child has carefully selected gets lost in the shuffle. Then there are the gift bags the invitees take home, in most cases a substitute for hand-written Thank You notes. The truth is that it’s possible to throw a birthday party without Toys R Us.
Eliot wanted to have his eleventh birthday party at the roller rink. For two hours we had the rink to ourselves, although for less money you can rent a table and hold your party during open skate time. With Eliot the quieter rink was the way to go. We had pizza and veggies and cupcakes, and I requested No Gifts, because as Carly said, “We are the Weird Family.”
But No Gifts birthday parties are great because kids bring drawings instead. Josh from Eliot’s baseball team drew a picture of the two of them playing baseball, and at the top wrote, “Happy Birthday, Eliot.” Eliot’s friend Cailin drew a card with a pink five-tiered Seussean birthday cake. Mitch and Mariah’s dad, a professional photographer, brought an 8 1/2 by 11 inch photograph of Eliot and Mitch in their Halloween costumes, flanked by their teaching assistants dressed as mimes and waving white-gloved hands. There is a whole story in that picture, in a classroom where many students have little or no language, and like mimes rely on hand signals and facial expressions to make their needs known.
Eliot’s friend Aaron came, and his mom put on her skates and pushed Aaron around the rink in his super high-tech wheelchair. Mitch’s sister Mariah skated around the rink so fast I couldn't keep up. Her mom is a hockey player who grew up with five brothers, and Mariah is growing up with two. When I asked if she played hockey with her mom she said, “Sometimes in the house.”
Blue and I laced up the double-wheel skates with the worn toe brakes and took a turn around the rink. Blue half-walked, half-skated, arms waving wildly. He wouldn’t let me hold his hand. Neither would Eliot, who made his way slowly around the rink clinging to the bars. Then, in the last fifteen minutes, Eliot held out his hand.
By then the other kids were doing the Limbo, and I made Eliot do it too. Together we skated toward the Limbo bar. The first time he fell on his knees, but the second time he squatted down and skated under the bar. The few adults watching from the sidelines of our blissfully small party broke into applause.
After the party Mariah came over to play. In platform heels with fur lining, she ran around the backyard with a laser gun, squatting behind bushes and rising up to spray Eliot with a litany of laser beams. Then they played hide-and-seek laser tag inside. Mariah hid and Eliot counted. For ten minutes he looked for her. Finally I went to help him. Under his ¾ height bunk bed, where he had gone first, a lumpy blanket sat in the corner.
“You need to look more carefully under your bed,” I said. He got under the bed and sat on the blanket.
“First you couldn’t find me,” Mariah said, lifting the blanket off her head, “and now you’re sitting on me!”
When it was time to take Mariah home I said, “Do you want to say anything to your guest?” thinking Eliot would say goodbye. But he walked over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
They had been friends since Mariah was five. Now that she was nine she was soaring ahead, but I tried to keep the flame going. A couple of months later, I took them to the movies. When we dropped her off at her house afterward, I told Eliot to walk her to her door.
“He doesn’t have a clue,” I thought, but when I looked up he had taken her hand to cross the street. To him it was a safety precaution, but it didn’t matter. “Thank you for coming with me to the movies,” he said. “I enjoyed it. Did you?”
Turned out there was hope for him and the Roller Queen yet.
Eliot wanted to have his eleventh birthday party at the roller rink. For two hours we had the rink to ourselves, although for less money you can rent a table and hold your party during open skate time. With Eliot the quieter rink was the way to go. We had pizza and veggies and cupcakes, and I requested No Gifts, because as Carly said, “We are the Weird Family.”
But No Gifts birthday parties are great because kids bring drawings instead. Josh from Eliot’s baseball team drew a picture of the two of them playing baseball, and at the top wrote, “Happy Birthday, Eliot.” Eliot’s friend Cailin drew a card with a pink five-tiered Seussean birthday cake. Mitch and Mariah’s dad, a professional photographer, brought an 8 1/2 by 11 inch photograph of Eliot and Mitch in their Halloween costumes, flanked by their teaching assistants dressed as mimes and waving white-gloved hands. There is a whole story in that picture, in a classroom where many students have little or no language, and like mimes rely on hand signals and facial expressions to make their needs known.
Eliot’s friend Aaron came, and his mom put on her skates and pushed Aaron around the rink in his super high-tech wheelchair. Mitch’s sister Mariah skated around the rink so fast I couldn't keep up. Her mom is a hockey player who grew up with five brothers, and Mariah is growing up with two. When I asked if she played hockey with her mom she said, “Sometimes in the house.”
Blue and I laced up the double-wheel skates with the worn toe brakes and took a turn around the rink. Blue half-walked, half-skated, arms waving wildly. He wouldn’t let me hold his hand. Neither would Eliot, who made his way slowly around the rink clinging to the bars. Then, in the last fifteen minutes, Eliot held out his hand.
By then the other kids were doing the Limbo, and I made Eliot do it too. Together we skated toward the Limbo bar. The first time he fell on his knees, but the second time he squatted down and skated under the bar. The few adults watching from the sidelines of our blissfully small party broke into applause.
After the party Mariah came over to play. In platform heels with fur lining, she ran around the backyard with a laser gun, squatting behind bushes and rising up to spray Eliot with a litany of laser beams. Then they played hide-and-seek laser tag inside. Mariah hid and Eliot counted. For ten minutes he looked for her. Finally I went to help him. Under his ¾ height bunk bed, where he had gone first, a lumpy blanket sat in the corner.
“You need to look more carefully under your bed,” I said. He got under the bed and sat on the blanket.
“First you couldn’t find me,” Mariah said, lifting the blanket off her head, “and now you’re sitting on me!”
When it was time to take Mariah home I said, “Do you want to say anything to your guest?” thinking Eliot would say goodbye. But he walked over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
They had been friends since Mariah was five. Now that she was nine she was soaring ahead, but I tried to keep the flame going. A couple of months later, I took them to the movies. When we dropped her off at her house afterward, I told Eliot to walk her to her door.
“He doesn’t have a clue,” I thought, but when I looked up he had taken her hand to cross the street. To him it was a safety precaution, but it didn’t matter. “Thank you for coming with me to the movies,” he said. “I enjoyed it. Did you?”
Turned out there was hope for him and the Roller Queen yet.
posted by Victoria Tatum at 10:28 AM
2 Comments:
dennine bullard wrote:
you bring sweet tears to my eyes = )
dennine
what a great story, very poignant. your little boy is growing up...
nAn
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