It is hard to believe that it is time to plan and execute another birthday party for the dark haired beauty that calls me daddy. That little girl works overtime on perfecting new and improved ways to try and manipulate me into doing her bidding.
Fortunately I grew up in a houseful of more sisters than you can shake a stick at so I am endowed with mighty resistance power, except when she climbs into my lap and starts kissing my face and telling me she loves me. That is the kryptonite to my mighty resistance power, fortunately I always have a backup plan. I’d tell you what it is but the little girl might read this and use that knowledge against me.
So the time comes to make arrangements for her party and I find out from her mother that there are five kids in her class that have birthdays in July. Not just that, but before school ended some of these moms decided to try and negotiate when the parties would take place. To quote one, “we don’t want to create conflict by having the parties on the same day.”
My thought was “hell yes we do.” That is the perfect way to cut down on the number of crazy kids running amok, but alas I was overruled on this. Not that I cared that much one way or another. If the mothers feel the need to discuss this, so be it.
And so they assembled the mommy diplomatic corps to engage in the heavy and intense negotiations of determining when the parties would take place. Apparently this was a painless and easy experience which is kind of disappointing. Had there been finger pointing and shouting I could have written a much more interesting post.
In fact I offered to send an email out that said:
Dear Parents,
Your child is an ugly monkey who has no friends, is disruptive in class and in dire need of a remedial potty training.
Not to mention that the parenting skills exhibited by you and your spouse resemble those of the Bonobo monkeys which leads me to believe that you spent the months preceding childbirth watching countless episodes of National Geographic and the Crocodile Hunter.
That is great if you are raising real animals, but relatively useless for humans. Thankfully school is over and we won’t be forced to pretend to like you or be nice to you and Cheetah. Your party sucks and you need a life.
Kind regards,
The Jacks
As you can imagine the above email is fictional and was never written. In fact this whole post just might be fiction, or maybe not. And now if you’ll excuse me it is time to club baby seals and praise the wonderful spawn of my loins.
All hail The Shmata Queen for escaping cleveland.
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