A Birthday Horror Story Part I

It's been quiet over here in Tea Party Land, and I apologize for my sudden disappearance. Maybe this will give you an idea of what we have been up against.

Oh my...where to begin? Well, how about the beginning? The 12th was Griffin's 4th birthday. To celebrate as a family, we decide to go to Peter Piper Pizza and a movie. Oh, if only Hollywood would have cooperated. Where is a good kid's movie when you need one? Instead it turned into miniature golfing. Curses on you, Hollywood!

Friday
The plan was to for Daddy to drop work a little early so we could golf first, then eat dinner and still make it home for regular bedtime. As per usual, nothing goes as planned around here, so we didn't get out the door until 5:30 or so. We ditch the original plan and head to Peter Pipers. The kids need to eat.

Evidently the kids also "need" to win very cheap, overpriced toys, which takes a longer than anticipated, and a few extra quarters I might add. In the end, after $7.00, Griff contentedly walks away with a 1/2 inch tall ninja guy and fake plastic Dracula teeth, and Logan is thrilled with her pink plastic straw with ribbon tied on the end that passes for a wand.

Anyway, by the time we left it was just too late to attempt the golfing, so we promise the kids that Saturday night, instead of mom and dad's date night, we would take them miniature golfing. It's a compromise they're willing to make. Me?...I'm not so sure. In hind sight, we should have gotten the babysitter.

Saturday
It was a full, full day, and frankly by the end of it, the last thing I wanted to do was take the kids miniature golfing. But a promise is a promise, so the evening found us pulling into the Golfland parking lot. And that's when the fun began.

"I need to go potty," Griff announces as we jumped out of the car.

"Are you serious? Griff, you just went two times!" is my tired reply. Seriously, we had just pulled over to let him water the plants roadside.

But it's a long walk from the parking lot, and what with all the skipping and shouting, and general childish anticipation, by the time we reach the front door both of us have forgotten about the potty. On a scale of 1-10 the kids' excitement level is about 15. "Can we play that game!? Can we have ice cream?!" Two kids at level 15 is hard to take, as is the layout at Golfland. After winding our way through the arcade and snack shop, we finally find the miniature golf rental booth. Of course there's a line. The kids, completely unaware of any aggravation, spot the huge jungle gym. "Dad, Mom, Dad, Dad! Can we play on that? Pleeeeaaaaassssee?"

"Okay, but just for a minute." Thomas hands me the debit card and follows the kids to keep an eye on them.

"Do you have a picture ID?"

"Of me? No. Just a minute let me get my husband. Thomas! Come here for a second."

And in that amount of time, things start to fall apart. I explain to Thomas that he needs to show them his ID and then we trade places. Except I can't find Griffin. "Logan. Do you see Griffin in there?"

"No..."

Okay, he can't be far...Thomas is walking over..."I can't see Griffin..." Wait a second, is that him? Under the bench? "Griff, what are you doing?..."

And that's when it came to me, and I said out loud to Thomas, "He's pooping!" And not only is he pooping, but it is suddenly clear that he has tried to get rid of the evidence by wiping it away with his arm.

Thomas quickly pulls him out and sets him on his feet only to find that the poop begins to drip out of his shorts and form two little piles on the cement. Both Thomas and I are frozen in some sort of horror.

To be continued....