Last night Chris asked me "so how was the party?" He asked it in a tone of "hey, how were those front row Red Sox seats?!" which was his first mistake. He should have asked it in a "um, so, how was your whole day of cleaning the bathroom/washing the cat/listening to the neighbor learn to play the violin?" sort of way.
Yesterday I took Lucy to a birthday party which featured several other five year old girls ranging from pleasant to completely psycho.
Like I said, his inflection was his first mistake. His second mistake was waking me up to ask me.
So I told him. I told him about the girl who screamed "I DON'T LIKE YELLOW BIRTHDAY CAKE I WILL ONLY EAT WHITE!" when she was offered a slice. I told him about the petite peanut who repeatedly body slammed another girl in the bouncey house because the offending girl had gone in when peanut's friends were in there. Had I not been responsible for the slammee, I would have maybe put money on it and let the fight go on a little longer. At the very least I would not have pulled myself out of my shocked daze as quickly.
I went on and on until Chris had fallen asleep. And then I told him some more. I told him tales of derisiveness and deceit. I told him of pony ride heartbreak and the unnerving gusto with which children swing a bat at Dora. Boy howdy did they need the candy inside that pinata.
In short, it was not exactly the way I would have chosen to spend my afternoon.
In Chris' defense, I have this deeply rooted defense system which makes me have fun at inopportune times. Like that time I was run over (I think I mentioned it somewhere here but am too lazy to look it up) by a bicyclist who was going 30 miles an hour (he told me) through a very busy intersection in downtown Denver. I got to flirt with an entire fire truck full of Denver firemen. If you've ever wanted to flirt with a bunch of ridiculously handsome men but are, say, too well-mannered to do so, go hit yourself on the head with a really big piece of asphalt and voila, it's easy! And I made lots of friends in the emergency room which maybe wouldn't have happened usually since most of the people around me had knife and gun wounds and I was holding a Banana Yoshimoto book which, oddly enough, no one there had read.
So yes, I have just compared a 5 year old birthday party to being run over and landing in the emergency room. I tell you these stories to help explain why I again have tickets to the Russian American Kids Circus.
I also have a slightly sadistic sense of humor. Which is why I talked it up and got Chris to take the kids this year.