Party of One

That's me, in my usual position on my "perch," playing Scramble, as it turns out. When I expressed surprise to Dave that he had managed to snap a picture of me in this position, he said, "Well, I've only seen you like this about a thousand times." So there you have it, me in all of my glory.

For the past five years we've hosted joint half-birthday parties for Luke and his buddy Hatcher at the end of June. This year the invitation list was getting just too complicated, so Hatcher's mom Julie and I decided to put most of our energy into a graduation party for their pre-K class, and a very small amount of energy into a very small half-birthday party for the boys. So last night, Luke and Hatcher had four of their closest friends over for a special evening at their favorite ice cream parlor.

Anyone who has hung around with Luke knows which ice cream parlor I'm talking about, and you know that he's not really all that interested in the ice cream - he's there for the books. This picture of him is actually a shot from the middle of the party, when everyone else happened to be up from the chairs, and he was so engrossed in his book he sort of forgot that he was at a party.

Nevertheless, the whole thing was extremely cool. They gave us a "tour," which essentially had us walking into the back room to see the ice cream machine and they let the boys add the sprinkles to the Birthday Cake flavor ice cream (Luke's favorite, and perhaps not coincidentally, their most popular flavor). After that everyone got a little sample of the freshly made Birthday Cake (which I like better fresh, especially when made by a bunch of five- and six-year-olds).

Then - and this is the kicker - they brought out these giant bowls and everyone got to have any flavor ice cream they wanted, along with their choice of toppings and whipped cream. It was supposed to be all-you-can-eat but one bowl was literally all most of us could eat. Actually, I think Hatcher's dad Stu managed to have a second bowl, right after declaring that this was where he wanted to have his own birthday party.

For Father's Day, Luke and Zach and I sent Dave off to get a massage, and while he was gone, the three of us drove down to Carson to the meat market that has Dave's favorite carne asada. Somehow when Dave has adventures with the two boys he always comes home enthusing about what a great time they had and how good the boys were; and yet when I attempt to have an adventure with the boys, it always turns into a comical disaster. So picture us at this meat market (where we are the only people speaking English), jostling for position within a huge crowd at the meat counter. Zach spots a precarious pyramid of apples and wrestles his way out of my arms to grab one, which is annoying, but I figure if I give him one it'll keep him occupied. So I get him an apple, and he starts eating it, and then he starts doing this thing where he chews off a little piece of skin and then spits it out as far as he can. Picking up pieces of apple-skin from the ground, and trying to listen for our number to be called (in Spanish), I am mortified. In the meantime, Luke sees all of the deer heads mounted on the wall, and then notices one that is smaller and has no antlers. "Mom? Is that a fawn? Why did someone kill a baby fawn? Isn't that mean? Why would someone kill a fawn? Did they shoot it? Why would they shoot a baby?" and on and on. We finally get the meat and make it to the check-out counter, and I have no cash so I attempt to use my Visa. They must be using one of the old dial-phone systems because it takes another 10 minutes before the machine can process it. I start getting the eye-roll from the regulars. And just before we finally are finished, Zach decides it's time for a loud chorus of the one part of the Handy Manny song that he remembers: "Muy rapido! Muy rapido!"

Final postscript: On the way home, I told Luke that I don't like the idea of killing fawns either; and in fact I don't really like the idea of hunting at all. So he thought about this, and then said, "Mom, when we get home, we should look up "Duck and Deer Hunters" on the computer, and then email them, and tell them that it's not nice." My five-and-a-half-year-old. The crusader.

Happy Father's Day to all of the amazing men in our lives.