Larry has quite the active dream life. He also possesses quite the ability to recount his dreams in colorful detail.
Like this dream, for example.
Can you guess which line is my favorite?
« May 2011 | Main | July 2011 »
June 2011
Five, Part Two
On Friday night we took Patrick and his friends to the Sounds game for a baseball birthday party, which Patrick and Gus both declared The Best Birthday Party Ever And This is Where We Are Going to Have All of Our Birthday Parties from Now On Until We Are 18 or Maybe Even 20.
On the one hand, I'm so glad they felt that way--especially Patrick, who had been dreaming of his baseball birthday party and all of the awesomeness that it would entail for months prior. On the other hand, OH MY GOD I AM ENTIRELY TOO HIGH STRUNG TO HOST A BASEBALL BIRTHDAY.
The reason I pay for "destination party packages" is that you show up and three perky teens make party magic, transitioning the kids from inflatables, to food, to gifts, to the car, to ALL DONE TIME TO GO HOME. You don't have to think about anything.
Like birthday candles, for example. If the party package includes a cake, it will include candles, right?
WRONG.
So that was festive. Standing around a big Costco cake box singing happy birthday and making a wish on our invisible candles REALLY ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
Patrick didn't seem to care, but he is one to bury his disappointments deep down inside and I apologize in advance to the therapist who has to address the Night of The Wishless Birthday.
If the candles had been the only glitch, I would have been fine. But there were a couple of things that were poorly communicated, and at one point during the party I texted Larry (who was standing outside the gates waiting to direct our guests) to bitch about something and OOPS! That wasn't Larry's number I texted at all! That was one of the party-guest's mom's! I AM SO AWESOME YOU SHOULD ALL TAKE LESSONS FROM ME I OFFER GROUP DISCOUNTS IF YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO DO IT AS A SEMINAR.
Basically, I was told the food would be served in the birthday tents by the Fun Zone, so I foolishly assumed that the kids would be able to play in the Fun Zone, while they waited for the hotdogs and food to be served. When the kids went to bounce, an employee told me I had to buy each kid a $5 wristband.
Um, yeah.
NO.
I am not typically One Who Complains to Management. I'm really not. My approach to life is very "I'm sure you're doing your best as I am doing mine", but if you're going to have children's birthday parties in the Fun Zone, you MIGHT want to warn the parents throwing the party that the Fun Zone is not included in the party package, so they can have $50 or a comprehensive Disappointment Abatement Strategy in place.
After I stomped my feet and ranted about the "extreme uncoolness" of the situation to two young gentlemen in Fan Relations who clearly thought I was off my nut and were not empowered to help me in any way, our party hostess appeared with 10 free wristbands.
This was a very good thing. Because Patrick really wanted to do this:
And after Patrick did it, so too did all the other children. When we finally wrangled the kids into the stadium to watch the game, it was pure magic for Patrick.
Our seats were awesome.
In an uncharacteristically bold move, Patrick approached the dugout and asked one of the Sounds to sign his baseball.
The Sounds won, and there were fireworks which did not cause Gus to lose his "earsight", as he has always feared they would.
There was the running of the bases ...
And hugging of best friends ...
And what more could a mother of a freshly minted five-year-old boy ask for?
Really.
Meet Grandma Thea
This is my grandmother, Theodora. The one who gave birth to eleven children.
ELAYBON! SantaMariaMadreDeDios.
As you can see, the kids really took it out of her.
No sense of adventure, that one.
No zest for life.
I gave a presentation about social media to 90 bankers, lawyers, CPAs and other business professionals yesterday and during the Q&A, someone asked me if a social media strategy makes any sense for companies that are trying to target seniors.
If only I could have responded with this powerpoint slide:
They don't all have time for Facebook.
Five
Patrick is five. Which ... can he even do that? Shouldn't there have been some sort of paperwork or licensing process for this? Shouldn't I have had to sign something? Gus can go around turning ages willy nilly, and that's just fine, because la-dee-dah-dee-dum, haha!, there's more where that came from. But Patrick? I'm sorry. No.
Although ... this does seem like an eternity ago.
And this ...
But then there's this ... this feels like a week ago (maybe two):
And this was a week ago ... no?
And, was it just last year that Patrick and Eddie Muenster were hunting for Easter Eggs? He still had chubby knees then.
I'm so confused!
He graduated into full fledged boyhood without consulting me.
Happy Birthday, my sweet Patrick. I hope this post didn't embarrass you too much.
Okay? So ... you just go and enjoy your birthday, little man.
Go ahead.
I'm all finished here.
(whistling)
(humming)
(Is he gone yet?)
.
.
(Best five year old ever.)
