Yesterday, I went to the seminary pool (we've been everyday since we got back home Saturday) and met Andrea to let our children swim together. While we were there, we were invited to a birthday party that evening of a little boy who had the same B-day as Beex. It was to be after Quinn had gone to bed, so we decided to go. By the way, try explaining to your newly three-year old and his big brothers that the birthday party was not for him.
me @6:15: "Alright guys, are y'all ready to go?"
Felix: "It's my buhfday pawty!"
me: "No, babe, it's Cade's birthday party."
Felix: "No, momma. You say it's my buhfday, a'day. You say dat."
me: "It is your birthday, sweetie, but your party will be in a couple of days; today is Cade's birthday, too and he is having a party tonight."
Silas: "Well, we can just say it's Beex's party, too. Right, Momma?"
me: "No, we cannot say that. It's Cade's party and we're his guests."
Corin: "Well, maybe everybody can sing Happy Birthday to Felix together!"
me: "I'm sorry guys, but we cannot do that. That would be rude to ask. But we'll have a party for Felix in a couple of days and do something special."
Felix: "Momma, I have cake at da buhfday party? You say dat?"
Ah, the real reason for any birthday party. me: "Yes, Felix, you can have cake."
So we go to the Seminary townhouses to attend the party for Cade. It's fun and there are lots of children for my kids to play with. I got to know some other moms I hadn't met yet. There are bubbles and balloons (which I hate-the older I get, the more I hate them), a dragon who breathed fire (the daddy with a squirt bottle) and tried to steal the kids "treasures" (a candy ring). The children had a great time playing the games.
After the games, the children headed for the picnic tables (it's an outside party) and the glorious cake (a castle made out of pound cake and icecream sandwiches (oh yeah, it was good). I see Cade's Daddy looking at the punch bowl, with a big square of rainbow sherbert lying in it, while he's holding a 2-liter of Sprite. He looks confused. There are two 2-liters and 2 containers of White Grape Juice. He has tried to ask his wife what to do with the punch, but she's distracted by the cake and doesn't hear him. Being a woman who has poured Sprite in a punch bowl before, I offer to help him. "Here. Open the White Grape Juice and I'll get the Sprite and we'll pour it on top of the sherbert together, slowly." He looks relieved and we commence punch making. And then, when the punch bowl is nearly full, it splits completely in half. Perfectly so. Like it was part of a fraction lesson for children. "What does 1/2 and 1/2 make? One whole punch bowl!" We (Cade's dad-of whom I have failed to get his name- and I) are so stunned that we do not stop pouring the juice and Sprite for about three seconds after it breaks. Being quick thinkers, we just stand there watching it spill on everything. I want to save it, but am awestruck by the mess. Some other people, probably thinking I'm the biggest idiot ever, come to our rescue and save the big hunk of sherbert and somebody else goes to get another punch bowl. There is punch on everything. I snap back to reality and try to help clean up some, but there is really so much you can do with party napkins and, besides, the party is outside, what's the big deal? The party goes on. I, however, have been dealt the "spill it" card and proceed to humiliate myself over and over by spilling drinks. I knocked over a glass of Coke and spilled three cups of punch, one of which landed directly in my lap, so I looked like I had wet myself. This is, of course, happening throughout the merrymaking of cake and presents. One other dad, HIS name was Nick and his wife was Blair (which is my maiden name), raised his eyebrows at me after I spilt the final cup of punch and asked, "is this a habit of yours?"
Apparently, it is.