Julian and Sebastian's Birthday Celebration 2016
Hello and welcome to this week's thrilling installment of "Where the @#$% Are My Kids?"
Today we're at SkyZone. A place for fun, frolics, and fractures. Our children ran off within fifteen seconds after putting on their "Safe Grip" trampoline socks, and we haven't seen them since. Can you find our children?
Maybe. Do we even want to find them? College is getting really expensive.
Okay. Look closer. Amongst the youthful screams and sighs of parental apathy. There are at least three children belonging to us.
And here's Julian, feeling cuddly and scared after fifteen minutes of roughhousing in the toddler zone.
SkyZone is an interesting place. It sort of reminds me of those tribal rituals where children are released into the jungle to fend for themselves. If they survive, they have completed the test of adulthood. If they don't return, they were never really yours to begin with.
That, or I just combined an M. Night. Shyamalan film with a platitude.
After Sky-Fest, we all headed back to Sarah's place where I discovered that Tina never checks her email. I'm pretty sure that the fossilized remains of our 1999 correspondence is in that inbox, but retrieving it would be like pulling the sword from the stone.
Here's Tina, not even caring because she claims, "The really important stuff is on my private bathroom server."
Justin is asking weighty questions as to what people of Central and South American heritage should be called. Mexican? Chicano? Latino? Hispanic? This is a pressing issue for all University faculty because failure to classify an individual's ethnicity properly can result in immediate action by Social Justice Warriors.
I used my Bernie Sanders Happy Handbook of Losing Primaries and it read, "All matters of ethnic nomenclature should be handled by a steep increase in taxes."
Sarah's Canadian relatives found this very agreeable.
Canadians find everything agreeable. "There's no climate change in Canada--just 50 feet of snow all year round!"
Luca stopped wearing shirts after 5pm.
I took an immediate shine to this kid from BC.
He came to the party all Lethal Weapon-like. Sort of like a cross between Tom Sawyer and Man of Steel. Later, he cried very bravely when Sebastian accidentally punched him in the face.
Okay, this part happened right after I kind-of, sort-of ruined the cake.
I mean, I didn't ruin it all by myself. First, Tina kind of ruined it. Then I sort of wielded the final blow.
I mean. I was really trying to save the cake after what Tina managed to accomplish with a dysfunctional pastry tip.
LOOK. SOMETIMES THINGS JUST HAVE TO GET WORSE BEFORE THEY CAN GET BETTER.
On the bright side, it looks easily digestible. Or partially digested. Maybe fully digested. It really depends on how bright your side is.