When Emily was about five, she came to us with this:

“For my Bat Mitzvah I want to have a giant black-and-white masquerade ball and I want everyone to come in, like, giant ball gowns. Mmmmkay?”

Our response, because she was FIVE, was a quick nod of the head and an, “of course, Emily.”

Obviously, our kindergartener took this confirmation as gospel and has been storing this of course Emily to use against us in a court of law if necessary. According to her, that was a legally binding yes. This, in case you are wondering, is how she scored herself a free trip to Israel last year. She had caught her Sabba in nod-of-the-head moment and then reminded him of his promise. She’s a smart cookie, that one. Only I think I need to outsmart her somehow.

Masquerade ball? Black and white? Dollar signs are floating above my head. Memories of what it was like to be 12.

How can I convince her that no one wants to remember this day?

Twelve was not a good year for me. My mother has planned this fancypants weekend for me and 400 of my closest friends. There was a friday night dinner—where I had to give a speech. There was a Saturday service—where I had to give a speech. There was a Satruday night awkward basement dance party—where they were no speeches but there were one-piece jumpsuits aplenty. There was a Sunday brunch—where I had to give a speech. And, really, all I wanted to do was stuff my face with Oreos and watch The Mickey Mouse Club and discuss which mousekeeter would be the best to be stuck in an elevator with.

There was the worst photographer in the world.

There was the worst hairdo in the world.

There were pearls.

There were black and white striped shoes.

There was a flub in one of the speeches.

There was a spill of something red and permanent. Wine, perhaps?

There were old ladies who smelled of BenGay kissing every inch of my face.

There is so much I’d like to forget about that day.

Of course, the remains of the day hang in the stairwell of my mother’s house, much to my chagrin.

BEHOLD! THE WORST PICTURE OF ME IN THE HISTORY OF EVER!

But, the good news is that the dress still fits, in case we do decide to go with the black-and-white theme.