At the bowling alley birthday party, there was a moment I’m glad wasn’t actually caught on video. Most of the kids were around a table watching Calfgrit7 open his gifts, with Cowgrit, her mother, and another mom watching over them all.

Calfgrit3 was at the bowling ball return trying to pick up a ball. I was heading over to help him, and I passed one of the little girls of the party who had wandered away from the group and was standing alone twirling back and forth, swinging her arms out. I was looking at Calfgrit3, fearing he’d hurt himself with the ball, so I didn’t really notice the little girl. Well, I did notice her; I just didn’t note how her arms were swinging about.

As I passed the little girl, she started swinging her arms back at full wind up. . . pow! Ka-ching! Right in my . . . .

I stumbled half in surprise, half in pain. Calfgrit3 was forgotten momentarily while I watched all the pretty stars flashing in my eyes. I turned around and staggered back to the party table. I got Cowgrit’s mother’s attention and pointed with my thumb at Calfgrit3. She hustled off to attend to him.

Cowgrit and the other mom at the table looked at me with confusion and concern.

“What was that?” the other mom asked.

“Did you trip?” Cowgrit asked.

“No,” I said with a catch in my throat.

I really didn’t want to talk about it right then, especially in front of the kids and the other mom. And the stun hadn’t yet fully worn off, anyway, so words were difficult.

“Did you hurt your back?” Cowgrit asked.

I shook my head no.

“Oh,” said the other mom, “I think I know what happened, but I’m not going to say.”

The kids were engrossed in the gift unwrapping, so they weren’t aware of the discussion.

“What happened?” asked Cowgrit.

One of the other dads approached, and said, “The little girl was twirling and swinging her arms. I think she hit him.”

“Oh,” said Cowgrit, now realizing why my face was a little twisted up. “Are you all right?”

“No,” I said, “but I’ll walk it off.” I tried to walk around a little, because that’s supposed to help with such injuries.

The other mom commented, “I’ve never seen a real man get hit like that. I mean, I’ve seen it on TV, but I’ve never seen what it’s like in person.”

“Yeah,” Cowgrit said, “I just saw him jerk and stumble. I didn’t even see him get hit.”

She offered to help me, but I waved her off so she could continue with the party. I just kept walking around for a while. The shock wore off quickly, but the “stinging” continued for several minutes.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of that kind of injury. “Sting” isn’t really an accurate word. It doesn’t sting like a cut or slap. It’s more of a stun. Bad hits will take a man to his knees immediately, and moderate hits (like this instance) will throw you off balance. I haven’t had a solid hit to the jewels in a very long time. I’ve had some glancing blows, that make you stop what you’re doing to evaluate the situation. But this was the first full-on tag I’ve suffered in many years.

You see these hits all the time on shows like America’s Funniest Home Videos, and yes they make everyone chuckle, including me. But when you’re the one taking the hit, there’s nothing funny about it. Until the next day. Now, I can laugh.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

We had Calfgrit7’s birthday party today, at the bowling alley. It was his choice of venue, and he had enjoyed the three or four other birthday parties we’ve been to at the bowling alley for some of his friends. Eight kids showed up, and we used two lanes.

It seemed that everyone enjoyed the party, and it was good organized and active fun for the kids. Some of the kids were calm and quiet, some were rowdy and wrestling, but overall, it was not too difficult to ride herd on the bunch. Cowgrit and I were the main parents present, of course, with help from Cowgrit’s mother, but there was a dad and a mom with us too for much of the time.

All eight kids bowled, though there was a ninth who didn’t want to, and she left early. Even Calfgrit3 bowled a few frames near the end of the party. I also bowled, because it’s a game, and I love playing games. But it was a mistake to think I could actually do any real playing; I was too distracted to do anything other than just throw my ball down the lane — I usually didn’t even watch to see how my bowl did.

After everyone had left, and our family was back in the mini van, Calfgrit7 exclaimed, “That was awesome! That was the best birthday party ever!” That makes a parent proud and happy. We, then, talked about us, as a family, going bowling one night for the fun of it.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

This is Calfgrit6’s wish list for Santa [exactly as he wrote it]:

legos
1. MT-51 Claw-Tank. ambush.
2. Barraki DeepSea patrol
3. Tigr Shark attack.
4. Lobster Strike.
5. Iron condor
6. Deap Sea Treas
7. Lego castle chess set.

Play mobils
1. playmobil Take along castle.
2. Red Dragon.
3. Rock castle.
4. Dragon attack Cannon.
5. Captive prirce.
6. Dragon troops.

Starwars
Transformers
Darth vader/Death Star.

He has Lego and Playmobil toy catalogs, so he paged through both to write down the exact names of the toys he wanted. I’ve looked through both catalogs, so I had a general idea of what he was talking about, but the specific names left me perplexed. “MT-51 Claw-Tank Ambush”?

But when I looked at the boxes on the Lego and Playmobil toy aisles, in the stores, the perfection of his list became apparent. It’s pretty convenient when you can scan the shelves and find, “‘Lego Barraki Deep Sea Patrol,’ check. ‘Playmobil Take Along Castle,’ check. . . .”

And to make it all even easier, he numbered them in order of preference. He said he knew he might not get everything on his list, so he wanted to make sure Santa considered his favorite wishes first. Such attention to detail — he’s my boy.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

One of Calfgrit3’s preschool classmates had her 3rd birthday party. It was held at a place called Planet Child — I don’t know if it is a chain or just a local place, but it’s very cool.

The place is a large room (the size of a large house) with big theme areas (the size of small and large rooms) throughout. There’s a fantasy castle, with a stage and faux medieval clothes to play dress up. There’s an “undersea tunnel” with an aquarium, a lighthouse with steps for the kids to climb up and look out over the whole big room. There’s a safari area, a grocery store area, a model train set up, and more. It’s really a great place for kids to play.

There were 32 kids at the party. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a kids party with that many kids. I think the largest I’ve been to was about 12 kids. The theme of the party was “princesses.” The party was fine, and I don’t think the kids noticed or cared, but it looked like having boys at the party was an after thought. It wasn’t “princesses and princes,” it was “princesses and might as well be princesses, too.”

There were 12 moms and 5 dads. This has always been the ratio of parents at kids’ birthday parties I’ve been to. It seems I’m one of only a few dads who do the birthday party gig. I like kids’ birthday parties. There’s cake!

At one point during the festivities, I overheard some mom’s laughing at one of the dads. He had apparently done something embarrassing recently, and the ladies thought it funny. The dad told me the story:

He took his son to another child’s birthday party the day before, at another kids-play location. There were two birthday parties happening that day at that location, and in a strange coincidence, the birthday girls had virtually the same name: Sophie and Sophia.

The dad walked into the business and showed the receptionist the birthday invitation. The receptionist told him where to go for the party, and he and his son went in. The dad didn’t recognize any of the parents or children, but that’s actually not that unexpected. For instance, I’ve only seen the parents and children at this latest party a couple times at school, and I only recognized one of the parents. I recognized only two of the children, and then only after being reintroduced to them.

So the dad didn’t think it too weird to not recognize anyone. And apparently his son didn’t say anything. (He probably didn’t care — meet new friends, play, and eat cake.) The dad talked with some of the parents at the party, and even spoke with the parents of the birthday girl. No one said anything to him. No one asked who he was, or what his son was doing at the party. The birthday girl even opened their gift.

He didn’t find out he was in the wrong party until afterwards when he left and saw people he recognized in the other party area.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com