And that’s the end of that

I was at a birthday party tonight for one of The Boy’s classmates. I’d met the birthday boy’s father before, and the birthday boy’s mom and I had corresponded via email, so I was looking forward to going. The Boy, of course, was super excited about the party and talked about it non-stop on our way home from his morning guitar lesson.

The thing about these birthday parties, though, is that you will inevitably meet another mom who, for lack of better conversation, will ask, “Do you have any other kids?” or “Is he your only child?” Sometimes, this is a question posed by someone I’ve already conversed with for a while and with whom I’ve established some common ground. And to those people, I’m happy to say, “Yes, and that’s good enough for us!” A quick laugh later, and we’ve already found something else to talk about.

But then there are those moms (and sometimes dads) who brag about their other kids’ accomplishments and then ask if I have any other kids. To these parents, with whom I have little in common and who are generally not people I want to invite to lunch during the week, anyway, I’ve discovered the perfect response:

“Oh, The Boy is our only child, and we are so very grateful for him.”

It’s a true statement by all accounts. The Boy is our only child. Cute Husband and I are, indeed, very grateful for him. What others may interpret, of course, is entirely up to them. But I’ve discovered that after giving that response, no one asks why I won’t have another. And I can enjoy the rest of the party in a judgement-free zone.


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