We gave Riya a choice: she could have a party with her friends, or she could have a “special day,” where she got to pick our activities (an idea I completely stole from Robin’s cousin). Amazingly, Little Miss Socialite actually chose the special day. She did, however, immediately secure a promise that next year she could have a friend party.
Setting the agenda was hard: she liked the brainstorming part, but was decidedly not a fan of trimming the list down so it would actually fit into an eight-hour day (and even after cutting back, it actually stretched to nine hours — Mom and Dad had a little trouble saying “no.”). First up was breakfast at Perkin’s. We got really lucky here; the Saturday balloon guy was already on duty, and he made her a balloon flower. She was so excited, we almost could’ve gone home after she finished her rainbow pancakes.
Next up: Riya’s first (professional) manicure! Not wanting to waste time waiting for her, I got a pedicure at the same time, making this my favorite part of the day. Um, the day which was about my daughter. A-hem. She had a great time, and she shows her hot-pink nails and teeny daisies to anyone who will look.
I forgot to take any pictures of the mini-golfing, another first for Riya. Her form was pretty good by the end, but she much preferred being left alone to figure it out on her own than doing it “right.”
Bowling was better. I have to say, bowling technology has improved a lot since I was a kid. Automatic bumpers! A ramp to roll the ball down if you can’t throw it hard enough! In the second game, thus handicapped, Riya actually won. (Shut up. I know how lame that makes Robin and me.) Also, technology in pre-teen boys has NOT changed that much, judging from the group in the lane next to us. Can’t wait to be THAT mom, sitting in the back and quietly handing over the cash when the waffle fries run out. Fun.
We were so full from breakfast that we decided to skip lunch and just get smoothies at our final destination: Nickelodeon Universe (or whatever it’s called) at the Mall of America. My daughter did not adequately inherit my fraidy-cat genes; she would’ve gone on every ride if it weren’t for the height requirements. This was Robin’s favorite part — I gladly played photographer while the two of them got all dare-devilish.
There are pictures on Facebook. Email me at grapemn AT comcast DOT net, and I’ll consider letting you be my friend. Maybe. (Well, more accurately, I’ll swoon and slobber all over my keyboard with excitement that you want to be my friend.)