Party of the Year!

Have you ever felt like the life you are living is a simple life? I have those reminders frequently. One of them came this week. Ethan came home from school very excited because 1) he had found his long-lost jumper and 2) he was hiding a really nice trophy under the jumper. He was excited. I was excited for him. I asked him why he got it. He had no clue. He sat down and ran through how his teacher had dismissed about half the class to retrieve their bags to go home. He said he sat there and thought, “Oh no. I’ve got detention. What did I do to get detention?” The girls were sharing in his excitement now and Kennedy assured him the trophy was probably for house points. “That’s the only thing that makes sense,” they thought. There were two rolled up pieces of paper glued inside. We decided to take a picture before he began his homework and open the papers when Dano came home from work. Unfortunately it got too late, the little girls were already in bed and Ethan had to unroll the papers before he headed to bed. The first was a detailed map. I began thinking maybe he’d been asked to participate in some offsite school function. The second was a birthday party invitation for one of his classmates. Kennedy, Ethan, and I just rolled with laughter! We had been so proud. We had taken pictures of Ethan and his mystic trophy. We had put it on display on our bookcase in the living room. It turned out to be an elaborate birthday party invitation!! This is where my world began to get a little smaller. When Dano got home I made sure he shared in the laughter. He looked at it and asked me if I knew who it was. Of course, I didn’t. The last name was the same as one of the compounds we had looked at…I actually thought the invitation was referring to the compound, not the family residence. Dano told me he thought it was the family who owned not only the compound but the largest produce business in Saudi. Over the next few days I noticed their name on billboards around the city. Dano had a coworker, who is a Jeddah native, tell him when he was growing up and kids would ask for something extra or expensive, a parent’s common response would be, “Who do you think we are? The Sharbatlys?” We decided this was going to be a big party.

When we arrived at their home the street was lined with cars and drivers. We parked and Dano and I walked Ethan up to the gate of the very large home. As Dano put it, this party made some county fairs look small. There was a ten foot picture of this nine year old boy in his Ferrari racing suit on the front gate of the home. Even Ethan, who is intimidated by nothing, who is only strangers with the person whom he hasn’t met yet, was a little apprehensive. Fortunately one of his classmates was arriving at the same time. I was able to meet his mother and she filled us in on the party protocol. When we actually walked through the gate I thought the local news crew had been called to cover the birthday. It was only a professional photographer and videographer who were both making rounds. The birthday boy, Abdulaziz, came over and very kindly greeted us and Ethan, had his picture taken with Ethan and went off to play. Their picture was taken under the birthday banner on the front of the house, a mere 12’x20’banner of Abdulaziz again in his Ferrari outfit with a Ferrari. We were now way out of our streamers and balloons league! There was a giant blow-up jumping apparatus. There was a popcorn machine, a cotton candy machine, soda fountains, a hot dog stand, and a shwarma machine. I’m not sure that’s what the latter is called, but a shwarma is a three foot stack of chicken slow-cooked on a spit then served as a sandwich, similar to a gyro. (And you thought Dano was kidding about the county fair comment?) As we looked amongst the adults, hoping to meet Abdulaziz’s parents, Ethan’s Australian friend’s mother told us the parents don’t come out to the party until the last hour or two (it was a four hour party). The nannies and aunties supervise the kids and games. Seeing there were about two adults per child, and Ethan was one of three Caucasian children (easy to pick out) we felt comfortable enough and left.

When we returned to pick Ethan up the magic show was concluding on the front veranda. Ethan was watching from the jumping apparatus. As we watched him we noticed he had made a new friend, a darling little Saudi girl. They had really hit it off and were having a great time. We mingled with some more parents and were approached by Abdulaziz’s father. Dano very much impressed him with his traditional Arabic greeting of a son’s father. They spoke of education, the U.S., business…he was one of the kindest, most gracious, unpretentious men, who, we found out, doesn’t own the produce business. We think that must be a brother. This Sharbatly brother owns the Porsche/Audi/Volkswagen/Ferrari dealerships, boat dealerships, and yacht marinas. Oh, well that explains the Ferrari theme. As he and Dano spoke about the economic downturn he was so quick to say, “You make money, but your money doesn’t make you. If you don’t have your family and good health, nothing else matters.” I truly believe he meant it. He made sure we were comfortable and had everything to eat and drink and then they came to get him for the cake. We followed everyone around to the back terrace where I thought they’d have a nice pool. No, they had a miniature go-cart track set up with three race cars. Ethan had really enjoyed that part of the party. There was an even larger banner; one that covered the entire back of the house. They sang “Happy Birthday” for about ten minutes…really…I think they took as many pictures as are taken at a wedding. The cake was larger than most wedding cakes. It was incredible. I just stared at it wondering how many pounds it weighed and how on earth they were going to eat all of that! By this time, Ethan was pooped out. We Listers, in our simple life, do not know how to party it up past about ten o’clock. We give our all until then. We met Ethan’s friend, Nowal, who is Abdulaziz’s cousin. Unfortunately she does not go to the same school so I don’t know if Ethan will see her again. As we were heading out the door, Mr. Sharbatly took Ethan’s arm and hollered something in Arabic across the courtyard. He had not received his party favor. Mr. Sharbatly handed him a Ferrari bag filled with Ferrari pencils, stickers, and other goodies. I’m not sure if Ethan will ever use the bag or if it will just be a prized possession.

As we loaded a tired Ethan into the car, thinking our children are now living in a world where they’re going to think they’re poor; where swimming and Mom’s “awesome” cakes (not to mention streamers and balloons!) are no longer a sufficient birthday party, we had underestimated Ethan. The only thing Ethan had to say besides what a great time he had was, “I wonder what his bedroom looks like.” What a great kid. What a great host. What great experiences. What a great, simple life.