Drink Rum

Saturday was dominated by the birthday party of my seven year old nephew. When I arrived (late... no surprise there) the party was well under way and there seemed to be dozens of kids between the ages of 0-7. They'd all recently been fed a healthy dose of sugar covered cake and were moving and screaming like bikers on a meth bender.

I tried to find a place to hide until the kids passed out, but nothing doing. The party was a pokemon themed event and two overly excited children decided it was in my best interest to have the concept of pokemon explained to me in excruciatingly confusing detail. One of them almost hit me because I continued to refer to the pokemon as "Pooky Man". I thought it was funny, but what do I know. One kid was so impressed with one of his cards that he continued to pester me about how powerful it was and how he was the most powerful because he had it. I pulled out my VISA card and told him that my card could beat his card any day of the week and twive on Sunday.

As the day went on, the first kid casualties began to pour in. There had been a sand fight at one point and several kids were wounded with sand in their eyes. I watched with mild amusement as assorted parents (note: I was the only one there sans kids) attempted to resolve the "sand in the eye" issue. There was one solution that involved having a kid submerge his head under water in the nearby ice water tub that was full of drinks. I thought they were joking until the kid dunked his head in the cold water and then came up yelling about his eye and hypothermia. The next idea I overheard was to go get the hose and shoot water into the kid's eye to force the sand out. Not making that up. I suggested we get a power-washer.

I got the angry look.

A bit later there were fireworks. Rockets, tanks, fountains, etc. Boom, pow, rat-a-tat-tat. The finale was to give all of the kids sparklers. Several of them. I watched with mild amusement as kids began twirling around firing sparks hither and yon. Then they started setting the yard on fire. And then themselves. One kid got burned and threw up both arms in a true "Rocky" pose shouting, "I got burned! I got burned, everybody!" as proud as he could be. And then he ran around the yard. At that point I had to stop watching and laughing and start putting out fires on the lawn.

Later while roasting marshmellows, my niece burned her hand with hot molten goo. I took care of her because apparently no one else knew what to do with a burn. I must have done a good job because she told me, "You're the best Uncle Monty ever."

I don't think there were any fatalities.