I love kids. I get on with kids. I know that magical world they live in and it's an awesome place to be. I especially love really smart kids who adapt their play to match yours.
It's post theBoy's party. On a rainy Canberra Saturday we had about 20 children in our smallish house. Despite the occasional slashing rain in the end we were forced to have the party split into inside and outside with children running with giddy abandon beneath our excellent pergola.
The lack of outside out-of-cover to play in restricted games. We tried musical statues but the stereo wasn't that loud and in the end I provided the music by dropping some choice beats. The prize? I called it corpse-robot. It was a robot figure where you could move the limbs and head around on its body ... so you could replicate a messed up corpse. Child appropriate? Perhaps not. But then kids love that sort of shit. Bottoms, wee, poo, vomit, grotesque maiming, slime. It's crack to them. More! More!
J won the corpse-robot. She was one of the few kids interested in winning prizes ... and in the end she crafted contests that were loaded in her favour; 'prize to whose clothes are closest to swimmers ... I'm wearing swimmers under my clothes so I win!' Then she'd go over to the prize bag and fish through for something of interest. Gold (1).
Other games consisted of a weird charades called Dr Frankenstein or Dr Moreau where you had to combine animal noises because you were some horrid nature abhorring steam-punked unlikely combination of two separate creatures. Like Pig Monkey—or a Ponkey. The important thing was to register horror at any of their choices ... then fish around the bag for a prize.
And yes, you make sure each kid gets a prize. I'm not for teaching shitty life lessons about the randomness of life when it comes to winning and losing at a kids' party. They will get that shitty crap about real life soon enough as it is.
So the party went for about three hours all up. It was a lot of fun. But I am aching from running around on my bung leg and I have a raw throat from God-defying mad scientist created lab monstrosity impressions. Made worse by the constant and loudly yelled out desire for brains since at one point we also played a 20 minute game of zombie Mikey chases the children into the Wendy house (2).
Only one injury this time. Right at the end. As the last child was leaving. theBoy gave me one of his traditional melon-flailings—where he's wriggling around on you when you're in the armchair and his giant skull smacks you full in the soft parts of your face. So I now have a mild case of fat lip.
A good party. Big ups to theWife for organizing and to all those who came despite the shitty weather and knowing there would be a small house filled to the brim with sugar-crazed one to eight-year-olds.
(1) She reminds me of me. Unlike J I didn't bother loading games in my favour. On occasion I simply cheated at kids' games as a kid. For example pin the tail on the donkey required kids to shut their eyes in addition to the blindfold because the blindfold wasn't that blinding. You could see through a sliver down the bottom. Since a Roadrunner comic was the prize on offer Mikey decided he deserved to win. I peeked and stuck the tail right in the gold spot. Go Mikey. On an interesting side note that was also the party where I happened to get dakked for the first time.
(2) Ten minutes later I was in the house and they were outside keeping me in. I had to crouch over, my bald spot scraping the inside of the roof. How I didn't fall in a heap during it I know not.