Hi there, Little Dude. It’s been quite a year.
I just wanted you to know, a year ago today I might have said some things I shouldn’t have. Some of those things I hope to never repeat. When I said, “Mom, you need to leave,” I hope you understand that Grandma Herbie really did need to leave, because she may not have realized that the labor and delivery takes place in the same room, and there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to give birth in front of her. Although if I hadn’t asked her to leave, she may have kept yammering on about her church’s Small Group ministry and not have noticed I was getting ready to push. She also might have stayed to scold me about my sudden onset of religiously themed cursing.
Which brings me to my next point. When the nurse told me not to push yet, and I said, “JesusMaryJosephAndaCamel,” I was trying to think happy Christmas thoughts. I was thinking about the Nativity set I was going to buy you someday, not taking the Son of God’s name in vain. There was nothing vain about it. Trust me. Nothing can be attributed to vanity when my lady parts were open to the breeze while a strange, hunky doctor applied a fetal monitor to your head via my nether regions while asking me if I was in fact lying when I said “I’m OK,” causing me to panic because not only did I not want to meet George Clooney this way but I also realized that George Clooney can READ MINDS.
I’m sure I said some other things, but you’ll have to ask Dad about those. Drugs had some awesome effects on not only the pain you caused me, but they may have permanently made me addle-pated.
Which is why I decided to throw you a first birthday party despite all my past arguing against toddler birthday parties. And it needed to be a pirate theme. I don’t remember why it needed a pirate theme anymore — that was so long ago, at least seven trips to the Dollar Tree and Target ago.
Maybe the pirate theme came to me when I decided we should take everyone swimming. Eat cake and ice cream, then head down to the pool and work off the calories, little children. Then a few days ago I suddenly realized it might rain, and the party would be ruined if I had no back up plan. Problem is, I hate party games. As a child I never got any enjoyment while being forced to see how many marshmallows I could stuff into my mouth while still being able to say, “chubby bunny.” Nor did I ever want to have anything to do with a game that involved relay races with plastic spoons or eggs or whatever passes for fun to deranged people. Humiliating stuff. Also, who wants to pit a group of girls ages 2 to 7 against each other in cutthroat competition? Not I. That is what they call a thing that can only end in tears.
Then I had a spark of an idea. A treasure hunt to find a box, a very special box, hiding special gift bags containing sparkly necklaces and rings and compasses and stickers with Johnny Depp on them! But how to do it …
Here is where I have to give credit where credit is due. Well, not precisely. I did a search on the internet, and Internet suggested something that I tweaked and made my own. Little Dude, don’t ask me what the Internet is. Just know that you are not allowed to use it until you are 32.
In case people are wondering how exactly this qualifies as a craft to make life better in a small space, it TOTALLY qualifies because I defeated negative thinking. The first moment I suggested a treasure hunt, and placing clues around the apartment, my mother — your crazy Grandma Herbie — said, “This place isn’t big enough for that game. Where will you have them go? To the bathroom?”
The answer to the first question is “PISH POSH.” The answer to the second question is “Anywhere!” and the answer to the third question is “YES.”
Here were my materials: party cups with names of party guests pre-written on them: brown paper lunch bags, torn up into pieces small enough for you to choke on, a cool leather box I’ve had in my living room for a hundred years that fit perfectly as a treasure box, party gift bags and a bunch of cheesy plastic jewelry, compasses, fake gold coins, eye patches and other junk.
First thing, I cut some of the brown paper bag in a circle and taped it under the cup of the party guest whom I knew for sure could read well. Yeah, I fixed that aspect of the game, so sue me. What are you going to do, Little Dude? You can’t even talk yet. The first clue, which Lydia read out loud to everyone, was “First, have tea with the Disney Princesses.” The girls all collaborated in the way that girls ages 2 to 7 know how. They shouted out the first things that came to their heads all at the same time until Your friend Anna outshouted everyone when she remembered admiring my Disney Princess tea set on my baker’s rack.
This clue right here read, “Next, go visit the bathing pond and talk to the turtle.” Yep, the bathroom. Specifically, your favorite bath toy, Mr. Turtle, who provided the next clue:
Mr. Turtle obviously directed your lovely friends to the “Sea Captain’s library, to check out Mother Goose.”
Somehow I skipped taking a picture of the Mother Goose book, located on the bookshelf in the living room, but you get the idea. Perhaps I forgot all about it upon arriving in the living room. That must be what happened because as you can see, the first thing I saw was your daddy’s adorable rear end. There it is, right over there. Take that, Pioneer Woman.
Anyway, the clue in Mother Goose was, “You scurvy dog, you’ll never find my treasure! Take a walk off the plank and get lost in the underwater tunnel.’ That right there, in close proximity to Daddy’s hiney is the plank and the tunnel with fishes on it. Under it was the next clue, which read, “You’ve had a rough journey, why not get some fresh air on the deck?”
This next little clue that I tucked under the plant here, they missed. Not because they weren’t looking, and not because the girls weren’t bright enough to spot it. But probably because these girls were so smart they spotted the location of the Sea Captain’s buried treasure as soon as they stepped out on the deck.
Perhaps the secret stash was too easy to find.
So there you have it. An easy peasy little game for some smart little girls, avoiding competition, offending no one and rewarding everyone. Perhaps you think it’s a bit New Age-y for me to avoid competitive games at my kid’s party. Surely, you are not as afraid of causing a living room full of crying girls as I am. You are, therefore, a better person than I am.
Now, you may ask yourself, why would I create a game for my guests that you, the birthday boy, cannot play? I say to that, who cares? You are one year old. And you could choke on the plastic jewelry. What’s the matter with you, anyway? But really, the quick little game served as the perfect moment to rush you off to change you into your swim diaper, which, I have to tell you is a BEAR to put on and take off a kid.
So, say it with me, Little Dude! To all the naysayers who said my home was too small for a treasure hunt, we say, WALK THE PLANK.
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