Flying children.
My mind has been a jumbly mess these past few days. It’s racing with things to write about, but those things come upon me when I’m doing something else. Like running away from my kids when they’re talking at me too much and all I really want to do is go to the bathroom. By myself. All alone.
And then I get so consumed with where to hide that I lose my train of thought and that clever thing I thought is flushed down the toilet. With an audience of the dog, the cat, the toddler and Lord knows who else is standing there while I pee.
That was an awful lot of information. Oh well. Stick with me, people.
Like the other night, Super Bowl night in fact, when we were all hunkering down in the basement from the cold (not a good place to hide; it’s about 20 degrees colder down there, but it is where the big TV resides and it’s the one hooked up to the cable box right now due to my simplification-of-life process, but we needed that to watch the awesome and the not-so-awesome-crap-really commercials), and I smelled “something delicious” roasting on the grill.
Or was it really?
That “something delicious” was code for burning asparagus, or as Hank put it, “asparagus candles.” We spent the next few rounds of Super Bowl commercial time giggling over that one.
Or going out with the girls last weekend for a long overdue dinner, and the things that were yelled out and “discussed” and laughed about mortified those tender ears at the tables around us, which we didn’t even realize until we looked around and there was a wide berth of empty tables and booths around us, yet there we sat on a busy Friday night in a busy restaurant while our waiter hid behind the dessert case.
Or that we’re trying like heck to get the toddler to say, “pahk the cah” in his self-initiated Jersey accent, except that he says “pop a cow” instead and sends the 5YO into a terrible fit of the snorting laughs.
See? Random. Utter chaos. Can’t carve a clear path to much of anywhere these days.
Instead, I shall show pictures of a certain friend’s boy’s birthday party. The mighty warrior “E” we shall call him. Or…SuperE.
It was a pretty fun spot for flipping and flying.
I don’t even know half of these little guys, but my heart swelled just watching them all.
I’m growing my hair out so I can do this.
Our little guy wasn’t so sure about the foam pit, until he was thrown in.
The dads looked mighty as they stood guard. (Really, they had just been scolded and told that the foam pits and other equipment were for the CHILDREN ONLY.)
The Goldfish showed off after that scolding, once again reiterating how awesome it is to be five.
And then there was some upside down stuff going on in another spot.
But mostly, there was leaping and trying and flying and bouncing and falling.
And oh, the trampoline. I think, perhaps, one of the best inventions ever.
And that birthday boy? I think, also perhaps, that he had a pretty awesome party.
That foam pit could suck in kids and we could barely find ’em all.
Finally, though, there was a call to line up, please.
Which they did.
Because there was rumblings of cake.
This one wasn’t too sure what “line up” meant, but he sure did know what “cake” meant.
You gotta run for it!
I love that picture above. Pureness in its joy, yes? My birthday wish for you, Mr. SuperE? That you always feel that.
And that you always have cake, of course.
He wishes that for you, too. At least the last part.
That one right above belongs to that one right below. Can you tell?
And this one,
Might be related to this one.
Who might also be related to the one having the birthday. Hard to tell, I know.
Remember this little sweet baby who loves my camera?
She still wouldn’t look at me. Sadness.
But I think her brother here below said a prayer for more cake.
And what were our children doing during all of this?
They take this cake thing seriously.
Like it’s a sport of its own.
As in, when everyone else is finished and on to the next thing? This man never leaves a piece of cake behind. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.
He ate all of his and started sneaking the plates left behind man.
And when no more plates were left because one of the adults caught on to his strategy?
He settled for a stinky ol’ orange slice.
And right after this picture, he threw it across the gym and passed out from sugar. Just kidding. But only on the passing out part.
Happy Birthday SuperE!!!!
