Sometimes holidays or birthdays happen.
When these things happen we are required to attend parties. I loved attending parties before I had kids.
(Stop. Wait. No, that was a total lie. I’ve always disliked parties. I’m like Peter Sellers in The Party. I feel like I’m not supposed to be there and then I break the toilet and have to sneak out a window.)
Anyway, now it is worse. Now my kids break the toilet and our entire family has to sneak out the window.
So we get invited to a family friend’s party. A big one. About 80 people. There are other kids there though. All the kids will entertain each other so the adults can drink in the backyard. Beautiful.
I decide I’m going to be extra laid back. I’m going to have a glass of wine and not worry that my kids might be playing with matches in the attic.
Instead, I’ll have Crappy Papa go check on them every ten minutes.
At one point, my mother-in-law asks me if he can have yet another glass:
Look at me and how laid back I am! I say something about how he doesn’t get soda at home or any other time so I don’t really care if he drinks a gallon at a party. She agrees. We basically high five in agreement. (The glass of wine was kicking in.)
Plus, my kids are happy! They are playing and we are enjoying ourselves too. This is awesome!
I’m standing in the backyard talking to Crappy Papa when Crappy Boy walks up:
My kids get naked at parties. It just always happens.
I go inside the house.
I look up and see Crappy Baby carefully descending the open staircase but he isn’t naked. He is wearing Hulk Underoos and pink sparkly heels.
So I ask him:
He explains that he peed and didn’t quite make it to the bathroom on time. So he just stripped down to his underoos. And then added sparkly heels of course. Maybe nobody would notice?
Crappy Papa goes upstairs to find out where the clothes wound up and to measure the pee damage. I tell him to text me if we need to climb out a window.
Then I turn to Crappy Baby and tell him that we need to get some clothes on him.
But he explains that he is a girl and runs. Even in heels, he can outrun me.
He is smaller too. A huge advantage at a crowded party. He effortlessly weaves in and out of groups of people.
After every single person there sees him at least twice, I catch him.
Then he proceeds to yell at such a volume that it hushes all party conversation:
Yes, hi. We’re the family that brought the screaming naked kid who refuses to put on pants and pees on your furniture.
Finally, I realize he is only worried about the darn shoes.
He relaxes. He gets to keep wearing the shoes! He is happy.
I get him dressed. The comforting murmurs of conversation resume, letting me know that we are no longer the focus of 80 people.
And he puts his beloved sparkly pink shoes back on.
I expect him to strut away and go back upstairs but instead he says:
And he kicks them off. After all that struggle he doesn’t even want the shoes!
He sneaks away barefoot saying:
I just need more wine.