"Mom?" Jonathan said, "I need four 'C' batteries."
"Ok, what for?" I asked, curious.
"For Dad's birthday card."
Um, ok... I received the next cellphone call while I was shopping for the
"Tape? To wrap something?" I asked, curious.
"No, a tape. To make a recording."
Um, ok... good thing our family is, in some ways, stuck back in the 80's, what with Rob's knowledge of all things 80's pop culture, our stack of casette tapes (White Snake, anyone?), and my collection of elf boots and pink hair bows. We did, indeed, have a recordable tape.
The final call came as I was driving home.
"Mom?" Jonathan asked, "Do we have a shoe box?"
"There's an old one in the bottom of the hutch in the bedroom in the basement, but it's got stuff in it, so you'll have to empty it out, but be sure to put everything back into the hutch. Got that?"
When I arrived home, I found this in the middle of the living room. A homemade bomb? An electronic mouse trap? What is it? More on that later.
You may recall that, around here, we can be overly zealous in our birthday preparations. Jonathan requires no fewer than 4 parties because he takes after his mama and gets a little twitchy at the thought of mixing his groups. Rob is a bit less fickle, overall, but Monday night turned out to be his "Kid Party."
He invited my sister's kids, Ana, Madelina, and Armando. First, they all ate pizza.
Then, it was time for dessert.
like, a gazillion three pizzas, one ear-splitting rendition of "Happy Birthday to You-ou-ou-ou!", and a dessert that keeps cardiac surgeons in business that's beyond-tasty, they all gathered 'round for gifts. The thing about kids and kid parties is, you get lots of help with opening presents. You also get lots of this:
And it's contagious, this sort of silliness... I mean, forget the fake, posed, smarmy family shots, I wanna see the real deal. And in our family? The real deal? Pure goofiness.It was a good party, even though my sister got into such a raucous game of keep-away that she was leaping over couches and knocking over small children. I'm telling you, you never know what might happen around here. Don't pull a muscle, sis, you ain't no spring chicken anymore, y'know! (Dear gawd - I've turned into Farmer Bill!)
Why, only the coolest homemade birthday card ever.
Listen For Yourself - then come back and answer this: Have we cornered the market on silliness or what?
Happy Birthday Honey! Nah Nah, you're still older than me!