Party Time

There are few tasks which strike terror in the hearts of most parents like planning your child's birthday party. In simpler times the chore was without pretense; a bunch of balloons, a mixture neighborhood kids, candles, a cake, and a happy, exhausted post-party youngster passed out on the living room floor surrounded by half-opened gifts. The world has changed dramatically since that time.

My parents were fairly conservative party throwers, although my Dad did vary
from the model one year when he selected a bowling alley as the venue for my tenth birthday celebration. The premise was sound. My dad and my Uncle Calvin would set everyone up with shoes and balls, then sit back and watch my friends and I attempt to knock down pins. Apparently these two had forgotten the devastation fourteen ten year-olds could create. By the end of the hour my buddies and I had abandoned the balls and were sliding our bodies feet first into the pins. Ice cream and cake were loaded into the ball return which catapulted treats in all directions. It was utter mayhem. According to my Mom, the bash managed to shut down the alley for the rest of the evening and left my Dad shocked and mumbling for over a week.

My son Will turns sixteen this month and is thankfully too old for such a childish spectacle, although he has had his share of noteworthy galas. One year Will decided that it would be fun to set up tents in our backyard for an outdoor sleepover. This idea seemed harmless enough, however, like my Dad and uncle had learned, things are sometimes not how they appear.

A friend lent us a huge tent which could easily sleep our invited guests. Snacks were prepared and the weather was fair. As the partygoers arrived we began to notice some extra faces that were not on the invitation list. Later a group of neighborhood girls showed up and joined the boys in the tent. The guests were just old enough for my wife and I to intercede and thin out the pack. The crashers and the ladies were politely sent packing and we were down to our original group.

With the exception of a few loud voices, the rest of the night went pretty smoothly. Nestled comfortably in our bed, my wife and I were awakened at 6am by the sounds of children hollering in the street. Bleary-eyed, I stumbled down our stairs and was greeted by one of our noisy visitants. When I asked him what all of the commotion was about he explained that one of our guests was missing and they were trying to find him. MISSING? SURELY THIS BOY WASN'T MISSING! The backyard gates were locked the house doors were locked from the inside and the dogs hadn't stirred at all. Some of the kids and I frantically began searching the house and surrounding area. My wife calmly interviewed the rest of the crew for possible clues. Note: If you are a person who is less than tranquil during a crisis (like me) marry someone who possesses that quality.

The young fellow was nowhere to be found. I would need to call the police and worse, I would need to call his mother. Grabbing the phone from the upstairs bedroom I was able to dial 9-1…. when I heard my wife call my name. While grilling my son in his room, Janet noticed a foot poking out from under Will's bed. As she leaned down to investigate a small blond child poked his head out from under the bed and ended the mystery. The manhunt was over, our escapee had slipped into the house slept under the bed for most of the night.

Somewhere in the afterlife my Dad was watching and laughing, his shirt covered with ice cream and cake. Grandchildren are truly karma's favorite vehicle.