Cla
ire, if you’re reading this, I need you to know that you cannot possibly have any idea how mad I am at you right now. Okay, I mean, I get it, your husband’s father is really sick and has a week, maybe two, to live, but just dumping me with Sophie while you travel halfway around the world? Are you for real? Just because I don’t have kids of my own and Soph is the best niece a person could ask for does not mean you can drop her on my doorstep at a moment’s notice. Do you think I have any idea what to do for a kid?
Not that she’s too much trouble, mind you, she’s the best kid around, but I’m scared I’m going to leave her at school. I don’t deal well with responsibility, sis, so yeah, I have no idea how to organise a freaking kids birthday party. Oh, and thank you very much for dumping that on me too, by the way, as if I have any idea how to do that. But it’s either try to a place to hold the thing or for Soph not to have a party at all, so I guess I’m just going to have to suck it up. I could have lived in blissful ignorance of the sheer number of birthday party venues Melbourne has to offer if you hadn’t been so incapable of using the internet. You can book at this stuff from the States, sis!
I think I’ve worked out what I’m going to do, and please, forgive me if it isn’t up to your standards. Ice skating in Victoria is a bit of a luxury right? A bit of a rare treat? Why not take the kids there and let the little monsters tear it to shreds, hey? Not a half bad idea even if I do say so myself.