Every year I plan my daughter’s birthday party around something she loves.
Last year it was a backyard campout. Three weeks later, my sister threw her daughter a backyard campout with the same tents, the same flashlight favors, and a professional s’mores table.
This year we did a tiny garden party. She has now announced a garden party with a flower cart and rented rabbits.
She never says she got the idea from me. She acts like we both received the same message from the birthday gods.
My daughter notices. I notice. Everyone notices.
Do I say something, or do I start planning an extremely inconvenient submarine party?
My sister copies everything too, then acts like we both invented it.
The chat is not an emergency room. I will respond when dressed.
Some relatives need read receipts removed from their lives.
The group chat needs office hours and a chairperson.
Mute it. Love them later.
No office hours, no response.
Imitation is flattering until she buys the exact same cake.
My family chat starts at 6 a.m. like a factory shift.