I walked into Graul’s liquor store the other day.
“Can we help you?” asked a member of the helpful staff.
“I’m looking for a reasonable bottle of champagne,” I said. Then, not to seem cheap, I added: “It’s for a children’s birthday party.”
Either the gentleman did not hear me, or he’s quite used to the eccentric ways of wealthy Ruxtonites (not that I’m one).
The champagne, of course, was meant for the adults attending a small gathering on my daughter’s eighth birthday. We would serve ginger ale to the kids.
The next evening, my husband and I and a dear friend—who in 2002 had twins just five weeks after our daughter was born—raised our champagne flutes in a toast. The children were playing upstairs.
“Here’s to surviving the past eight years,” she said.
Cause for celebration, indeed.