Today was birthday party day for my 4-year old Monkey. I played the part of uber-Mom and threw him a killer party with his little circle of school friends...and some former friends too.
I wrote out the invitations and fielded all the RSVP calls.
I bought every conceivable piece of Power Rangers party ware.
I rented the giant bouncy thing in the shape of a dinasaur (read: megazord -- it's Power Rangers after all!).
I cleaned the bathroom, kitchen, living room and laundry room.
I bought snacks and drinks.
I made a cake. And homemade icing. And decorated it (myself) in the form of a Power Rangers mask. And credibly so, I might add.
I filled helium balloons and put them on the house.
I got cool stuff for the party bags (crayons and bouncy balls and sunglasses and mardi gras beads and handfulls of chocolates each).
I got ice cream to go with the cake.
I sent Monkey-daddy out for a few last minute items (chairs, salsa, guac, ice).
I greeted the guests....entertained the parents...tended to the kids.
And then... 1 hour and 45 minutes into the 2 hour affair one of the little rugrats looks up at me with giant eyes and a fresh case of cancer of the puppy and says "What do you mean you don't have a pinata???"
Crap.
5 comments:
Did you pick him up and pitch him out of a second-floor window?
And happy birthday to the monkey!!!!
Right. I was totally thinking that while you were going down the list. WHAT ABOUT THE PINATA????
(Right.)
Happy birthday Monkeyboy!!!
Happy birth-aversary, Monkeyboy!
You know what would have been a fantastic response? "Haven't you been eating candy all afternoon? Well, then let's string you up, pinataboy!" His mother would have frowned on it though.
Way to go supermom!! And for next time, I just happen to have a nemo pinata you can make use of... lucky fin and all.
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