Day 17: Six Year Olds Should Come WIth A Warning....

I now own a six year old.

Well not really own, but I do take care of him and he did come out of my womb so I guess yes, I do own him. He's mine. I like to remind him of that when he's being a little jerk (read: tantrums).

My six year old is pretty tame compared to the ones I met this weekend. TAME!

I am the type of person who gets walked all over. I'm a pushover, I have a soft heart. I like to appear to be tough to protect my soft heart because chances are if you ask, I am going to say no, but feel really bad about it and call you and say "yes yes oh yes I will get you a huge ass bag of dog food on a Saturday morning because I feel BAD that I said NO."

Just one of my many flaws.

My intentions on Friday were to bring cupcakes to Mason's kindergarten class. My intentions were to bring the yummiest and prettiest cupcakes to the class, the kids would each sit in a perfect little circle and eat one cupcake each and nobody would get messy, not even a crumb.

At least that is what my mind told me would happen.

Unfortunately the way my mind sees things and the way they actually play out can be quite different. Before I knew it, there were cupcakes on the floor, there were kids crying because they couldn't have two napkins (WTF??) and kids double-fisted with cupcakes.

It was slightly disastrous, but apparently the cupcakes were yummy!

The next morning we had Mason's party at the Children's Museum. We have his party there every single year, for many reasons, mostly because the price is within my budget and I don't have to clean up or control the children, for the most part anyway. They also have some pretty amazing lighting in their party rooms which makes for some great photos.

Mason had 11 guests. Eleven kids all between the ages of 3-8. Eleven kids who were the rowdiest bunch of kids that I had ever seen in my life. The parents were dropping their gremlins kids off, and asking if it was okay if they left. I really didn't see a problem with it so I waved them all off to go have their afternoon martinis and get their hairs did while I stayed to party with their demons children.

Within five minutes of the parents leaving there were kids crying, kids getting lost, and kids running into a big exhibit room at the museum probably never to be found again. As if that wasn't bad enough, I had forgotten how many kids we actually had with us. When the party director counted heads and said we had eleven kids in the room with us, I just sort of squeaked and nodded, uhhh yeah, that sounds about right, as I counted in my head, at least tried to. I still kind of hope we didn't lose any kids, because that will be totally embarrassing when I have to drop Mason off at school tomorrow if I lost someone's kid and didn't even know about it.

So they locked us in a room (phew) and turned off the lights to show us a star show. Which would be really interesting and all if these kids weren't more interested in Pokemons and Bakugans and gouging each others eyes out.

Strangely enough, even though I was sure as heck nobody was listening to this poor dude go on and on about his star show, these kids knew all the freakin answers. Answers to shit I had no clue about.

Kids scare the shit out of me. Especially older kids that are smart. Smart kids are freaky because there is no fooling them, and sometimes I think they are smarter than me.

Then we brought the kids back to the room, this time I took a mental note to count each kid's head before we left the star room. We only lost one kid on the way down the hall, so that was pretty awesome. Then they did crafts where they built constellations out of marshmallows and toothpicks.

and their constellations were amazing. The scary thing was I was so certain nobody was paying attention to that stupid star show, but these kids quietly poked their stale marshmallows onto toothpicks and didn't make a peep (note: buy old marshmallows and toothpicks in case I ever have a play date at my house).

and then it got scary again when the toothpicks could no longer contain their hyperactivity.

I don't get it.  I always felt uncomfortable at birthday parties when I was younger.  I remember sitting there, picking my scratchy leggings out of my ass the whole time, angry at the pigtails my grandma put in my hair and wishing I was back home, with my own toys and not having to play stupid birthday games and eat disgusting cake that was smothered in icing that gave you a cavity as soon as it touched your teeth.  Yes, sadly I was the definition of party pooper.  Until I hit my 20's and became the party drunk, which totally made up for it.  Who wouldn't want 20-year-old me at your party telling you about my mom selling dildos and drinking all your gin.

Then the kids ate cake, which I'm pretty sure was of the instant-cavity sorts:

 ...and my kid blew out all his candles in one big blow, which in his mind symbolized that he was now officially six and to him and his friends that meant, LET'S TRASH THIS PLACE!! Which made me glad this was not my house, but sort of made me feel sorry for the man with the red beard and the strange adult lady who wore Hannah Montana boots (where did she find Hannah Montana boots in her size? One of life's mysteries).

Strangely, the only thing that tamed these wild monsters was a little science experiment that involved blowing shit up.
...blowing shit up scares me too.  Just for the record.

After the longest hour and a half of my life was over, and the parents came to retrieve their "little angels" who were covered in cake and sweat, we had to go straight to his cousin's birthday party.  In a huge indoor jungle gym for some more torture. By the end of the day I was wondering why they don't serve martinis in places like that.  I think I may be on to something here, I'm going to write up a business proposal now.

Even though the day was pure torture and I sort of want my Saturday back, seeing the joy on this kid's face as he is surrounded by his best friends makes it totally worth it.

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Hello..this is my blog. I bought this fancy theme and I don't know what to write here just yet. Maybe one day remind me I have to write something inspiring here?


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