Ariel gasped. “Can we have tea now, Grandma?”
“After cake,” Clara said.
Ariel considered the unfairness before reluctantly accepting it.
For the next two hours, the party unfolded the way children’s parties always did—loud, sticky, and mildly hazardous.
Preschoolers chased each other with water guns.
My father fell asleep under an umbrella.
Glen burned the first batch of hot dogs and blamed the breeze.
Clara remained at the edge of the activity.
She refilled drinks.
Gathered paper plates.
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