F Bombs and Celebration Mishaps
So there I was ordering glass markers on Amazon, giggling. I had the perfect plan: I'd decorate my son's car with phrases like "Class of 2025" and "Make way for a Scholar and a Graduate." The surprise on his face was going to be worth it!
My stealth nighttime dog walk aroused no suspicions.
The next morning, my husband and I positioned ourselves on our bedroom balcony, drone hovering in the air (yes, I'll link to the most expensive Father's Day gift I've ever said yes to), ready to capture the magical moment of our graduate seeing his tricked-out car.
My son took one look at the decorated vehicle and yelled "Fuck no," loud enough for neighbors to hear, grabbed my car keys, and drove off in my car.
Did I take it personally? Maybe a little.
But what hit me harder was the realization that I'd made a classic relational mistake—I'd made the celebration about me, not him.
When Gestures Fall Short
My car decoration disaster got me thinking about all the ways we celebrate our kids—from spontaneous outings to elaborate graduation parties, and how it's easy to miss the mark. Whether it's a surprise decoration or a lavish gathering, celebration has to be tailored to the person we're honoring - if it's really a gift for them. We must love someone how they receive love - not necessarily how we naturally and easily show it.
My Diet Spice son hates being the center of attention. Driving around in a neon-decorated car announcing his success would have been actual torture for him. I realized some old programming was still making me think that part of celebrating someone means making them a little uncomfortable, pushing them out of their comfort zone "for their own good." But that's not a celebration—that's me projecting the way I wish I had been honored. (Womp Womp).
The question I should have asked myself: "How would he like to be celebrated?
And why are we celebrating?
This is where Priya Parker's wisdom from the book The Art of Gathering is invaluable. Parker urges us to define our purpose. She says we must ask "why?" repeatedly until we find an articulation of what we truly want to accomplish with the celebration. As Parker explains, "a category is not a purpose." In other words, a purpose is not simply "I'm hosting a graduation party." That's just a category like a birthday or wedding. The real question is: what specific need does this celebration, whether it's a gesture or a party—fulfill for your loved one?
Here are three examples of purposes that go deeper than just "celebrating graduation”:
1. To help your graduate feel seen and supported by their community as they transition into their next chapter, Idea: Create a "Wisdom Circle" where each guest shares one piece of advice for the challenges ahead or a reflection on the achievements already accomplished.
2. To create a bridge between who they were and who they're becoming. Idea: Design a "Then and Now" storytelling session where guests share a memory of who the graduate was in elementary school, along with photos, then make a prediction about who they'll become. Maybe create a poster with pictures of them as a baby plus an AI photo of their possible future?
3. To create a moment where your graduate feels empowered to own their accomplishments without needing to minimize them. Idea: Design a "Victory Lap" where the graduate gets to tell their own story of overcoming challenges, with guests prepped to affirm and celebrate, not diminish or redirect.
Each of these objectives would create a completely different gathering—and more importantly, each would more likely serve your graduate's actual needs rather than just following tradition. None of them would appeal to my quiet Mild Child.
Real Celebrations for Real Kids
Celebration doesn't have to be elaborate to be meaningful. Here are smaller-scale examples:
Kindergarten Celebrations for the shy one: A "Big Kid" breakfast at home with pancakes cut into graduation cap shapes and one best friend invited to talk about first-grade excitement.
5th Grade Celebration for the academic loner: Create a "Middle School Quest" scavenger hunt to run on the elementary school grounds after pickup, with clues based on your graduate's favorite spots on campus like the playground, library, and cafeteria. Print extra copies of the clue sheets and casually mention to other families that you're hosting a game with a group prize at the end if their kids want to join. End at the water fountain area with water balloon target practice.
Eighth Grade Celebrations for the friend-focused teen: A "Memory Lane" gathering where middle school friends contribute to a time capsule or vision board for the next year using stacks of old magazines and markers.
Milestones trigger our urge to hover precisely when its time to step back.
Graduations—whether kindergarten, eighth grade, or high school—mark transitions toward independence. When we over-manage these moments, we rob our children of the chance to practice leading their own celebrations and disappointments.
One of the hardest parts of parenting Spicy Ones is the job of preparing them for a world where we won't be decorating their cars or hovering with drones. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is ask what they need, then step back and let them lead.
My son later thanked me for the thought behind decorating his car, then asked if we could celebrate with his favorite sushi and a movie at home (as well as a car wash). No decorations, no fanfare—just us acknowledging his hard work in a way that felt right to him.
What's your biggest celebration mistake with your Spicy One? Reply and tell me—I read every single response.
P.S. Those glass markers? They're going back in the drawer for the next human who actually wants their car decorated. Sometimes the best gift is knowing when not to give it.
As always, scroll down to the bottom for This Week On The 'Gram.
Rooting for you,
Mary