Our Sunday

Where to start? We went to a birthday party this weekend. Our neighbor's had a birthday party for their daughter yesterday. They rented a moon bounce inflatable toy for the occasion and had plenty of activities for the kiddies. Kathleen was a tad too young for most of them, but I think she had a good time anyway. They had plenty of play sets for her to explore. We let her crawl through the wet grass to her little heart’s content. She was exhausted by the end of it.

There must have been at least 20 kids there – I’d say closer to 30. It was a mad house. Most of the kids were very good, but there was one little girl, a child of about four or five, who is going to grow up to be a brat. We first ran into her in the moon bounce. I sat Kathleen inside the doorway with another neighbor's 18 month old son. Kate was looking around unsure of what to do. Two little girls – one of whom was the child in question – crawled through the door flap. The first girl squeezed in to the side of Kathleen. The second girl, on the other hand, walked right over her. Literally. She stepped over Kathleen and knocked her down. She didn’t even glance back to see what she’d done when Kathleen started crying.

We had another experience with this child about 60 - 90 minutes later. Kathleen was sitting on the ground playing with the grass. I was watching her from a few feet away. The little girl from earlier comes marching by with an unloaded toy air gun in her hand, “shooting” it here and there. As she passes by, she notices Kathleen. She aims the air gun at my daughter’s back and shoots her. Twice. My daughter. In the back. She shoots her. I don’t care if the thing was loaded or not. You do not aim a weapon, toy or otherwise, at another person – especially a baby – who is not part of your game and is completely unaware of you. And all her dad could do was say her name? The more I think about it, the madder I get.

We had a third near run in with this little monster back in the moon bounce (I'm still mad about the toy gun). There weren’t any other children in the thing for once, so I had Kathleen inside the door flap again. She’d crawled in a few feet and looked like she might want to explore further. Then the dear little diva and another child crawled in and began bouncing. I had visions of their heedlessly bouncing over top of Kathleen and on Kathleen and hurting her. I pulled her out as quickly as I could.

I know she's only a preschooler, but seriously, that girl is going to grow up to be a self-centered prima donna if her parents don't start directing her with more consistency and authority. Her mom was busy with her baby sister, so her dad was following her around throughout the party telling her not to do this or that. She completely ignored him. It’s not surprising considering he spoke to her with all the firmness of an overcooked noodle.

Anyway. . . .

I walked Kathleen home around 3:15. She hadn’t really napped all day. She was wet, sticky, and growing crankier by the minute, and she was exuding an odor of dirty diaper. I decided to give her a bath and see if I could settle her down for a nap. I took off her diaper and wiped her bottom. I didn’t bother to put a new diaper on her since I was going to give her a bath in a few minutes. I let her play in her room as I set off to fill the tub. Her room and the bathroom face each other, so I could plainly hear her playing. The tub was nearly full when she popped through the bathroom door. I looked down at her. A dawning horror crept through me as I realized that she had been doing more than playing in her room: she’d been concentrating too. I evidently shouldn't have left her without a diaper. The good news is that I did manage to clean everything out of the carpet, even the little hand print and the dirty trail leading into the hall.

I should have taken pictures.