Sunday Confessions: "Celebrate"

Hello, Readers!  I am doing something new today, which is called Sunday Confessions.  More than Cheese and Beer hosts the Sunday Confessions and provides a topic for each Sunday Confessions post.  This week's topic was "Celebrate."  The story I chose to write about took place when I was 6-years-old and had the birthday party of my dreams, or so I thought...

When I was 6, I decided that I really wanted to have a pool party for my birthday. We lived in California and had a pool in our backyard, so this was convenient. I anticipated this party to be a blast. And it was, for the most part. A bunch of 6-year-olds were swimming in my pool, splashing in my pool, being too loud in my pool, and generally just being obnoxious in my pool--what could be more fun?

The activities of this party consisted of more than swimming. There were other things too, such as the pinata. The pinata is always one of the most highly anticipated activities in a children’s birthday party, and mine was no exception.

At some point, one of the kids hit the pinata with an incredible force, causing the pinata to bust open and most of the candy to fall on the ground. Without missing a beat, my little 6-year-old guests swarmed around with their stupid little treat bags like they had somehow transformed into vultures. Vultures that were really into candy, that is. They were so fast and aggressive--holy crap were they aggressive!

By nature, I have always been somewhat of a polite and passive individual. With that said, I just stood there and watched the chaos ensue, completely frozen and unsure of how to process what was happening, let alone react to it. After a few sorry attempts to get in on the action, I soon realized that these kids were not the type to kindly step aside as I grab a quick handful or two of candy. Nor was I the type to start pushing and shoving just for a few pieces of candy.

With that realization came some tears. I felt helpless. While I’m not sure exactly what I was thinking at that moment, I am sure it was something like, “I thought I was going to get a lot of candy today. It is my birthday, after all. But no, these little assholes have robbed me of that opportunity. I think I am going to cry about this because this is very sad and disappointing.”

As I was standing underneath the busted pinata crying helplessly, my mom and the rest of the adults came to my rescue. Somehow the adults were miraculously able to talk the kids into sharing the contents of their treat bags with me.

Within a matter of seconds, all was well in my world again. I could not have been more relieved. I’ll be honest, for a second there, I thought I was going to have to find a new group of kids to play Power Rangers with at recess. Thank God that wasn’t the case.

In the end, it was a really fun party. Minus my little freak out episode, that is. The days following my party consisted of eating an abundance of pinata candy, and, of course, hearing my mom tell way too many “It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to” jokes.

PS, I am aware of the fact that I did not use the Spanish accent on 'n' in pinata when I wrote this post. That is because I don't know how. I will learn. You will see.