Beenie's Bounce House Birthday

Four years ago today, on our thirty-first anniversary, Pa-pa and I got a pretty special present. That day, Beenie entered the lineup as our fourth grandchild.

A couple days ago, we looked up the anniversary list to see what special designation the thirty-fifth anniversary has. Since we couldn't figure out exactly how to work coral and jade into our day, we opted to spend a glorious day at Beenie's fourth birthday party. So instead of coral and jade, we celebrated with superheroes and an inflatable bounce house.

This great day, which we shared with all the grandkids ages two through eight, started off with pizza, cycled through presents and the raucous cacophony of six bouncing children, and ended with cake, ice cream, and gift bags.

With the possible exception of snorkeling off Black Rock on Ka'anapali Beach, I don't think there could have been a better way to spend a milestone anniversary. Indeed, we were blessed with the combination of unbridled merriment and no broken bones (at least that we know of now). Although our unpredictable Missouri weather was a little on the cool side, there was no rain, and there was too much jumping going on for anyone to feel the slightest cold.

Beenie liked coming down head first:

But some of us, though exhibiting impressive form, were not quite so brave:

Thanks to Beenie's daddy, son Teebo, for coming up with this wacky idea to celebrate the joy of family on this most special day. If you ask me, the photos above commemorate a thirty-fifth anniversary better than any amount of coral or jade ever could.

And as for you, Beenie-Boy, I hope you have had the most wonderful of days. You got yourself a new stash of superhero gear and action toys and even a new Spider Man backpack for preschool next year. Your mama baked you the best cake ever, and you blew those candles out like an expert:

As I write this, your fourth birthday has most likely wound down, and, at the end of a day that couldn't be interrupted for the likes of a nap, I suspect you have already fallen asleep, maybe in those new Incredible Hulk boxing gloves.

I hope your dreams are full of hugs and bounces and sweet whipped-cream icing. You came to us as a special gift four years ago, sweet boy, and you remain so every day that we are blessed to share with you.


  

Bad Guys and Vampires

It doesn't seem unusual for little boys to be fascinated by superheroes. I would expect to be buying toys and T-shirts featuring Batman, Superman, and the rest of that familiar lineup. With four grandsons, I have certainly bought my share of those.

Then, a couple years ago, Pooh developed an affinity for bad guys, particularly Horace and Jasper, the dog thieves in 101 Dalmatians. On every visit for several months, I would have to role-play one of them while he played the other. This wore me out. It seems that, in the process of dog-napping, thieves must expend a considerable amount of physical energy.

More recently, Beenie, who will be four in just a few weeks, always wants me to show him, on my iPhone, images of every bad guy he or I can think of. To this end, we have engaged in numerous discussions of Joker, Mr. Freeze, Penguin, Riddler, and  Jesse James. Once, I even threw Clyde Barrow into the mix. It seems I need to increase my repertoire of bad guys I can think of off the top of my head.

Last night, however, Beenie decided to pretend he was a vampire (I have no idea where he learned about vampires--I swear I am innocent this time.). As the potential victim of this particular bad guy, I had reasonable cause to worry. I had to pull my collar up around my neck and think fast.

"What does a vampire look like?" Beenie wanted to know.

"Well, he has sharp fangs, I said." And that's when, by the miracle of free association, I thought of apples. Sure enough, there was a single apple in the fridge that we were able to stretch into a play session of half hour or more.

"How?" you ask. Like so:

Yes, a secret yet untapped by apple promoters worldwide is that apple slices make perfect fangs. A typical apple, we learned, will afford you about ten sets of fangs. Each set will last several minutes from the victim's initial shriek of terror to the vampire's inevitable ingestion of his own teeth.

Luckily, no necks have to be harmed in the process of this particular vampire game. Last night, our biggest problem was the fact that we had only one apple and, thus, had to ration our fangs very carefully.

As it turns out, a little boy's preoccupation with bad guys isn't doomed to an undesirable outcome. As an added bonus to lots of fun and laughs, the kid, in the natural course of play, ends up with a healthy snack, and you can't beat that.

Googie's Superhero Award

With this year's Oscars behind us, the time is right to focus our attention on the much coveted Superhero Award.  My name is Googie, and I am your emcee.  Welcome to our show.

Actually, the show is coming to you on tape-delay, as the actual event occurred two days ago.  Last Saturday, our local Parks and Recreation Department hosted a Superhero Party for children ages 2 through 7.  Held at a convention center in one of our city parks, the party consisted of three large rooms filled with games and craft activities for children to engage in on a walk-up basis. 

Manned by young men and women in superhero attire, the carnival-like stations invited children, most of whom were also costumed, to deflect balls, throw foam mallets at balloons, or shoot flying disks at targets depicting the evil Joker.  At the craft tables the kids could choose stickers and markers to decorate cardboard masks, swords, and shields, or to put their personal touches on a fabric cape. 

They could get tattoos, run an obstacle course, or get their pictures taken with the Superhero cast.  In short, the party was an hour and a half of pure Superhero-themed fun topped off with a cookie and a juice drink.  (At this point, just let me pause to thank our sponsors for the hours of effort that went into creating such a fun, memorable time for these kids.)  And now, back to our program.

Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure and self-appointed task to introduce to you the three finalists for Googie's Superhero Award.  First, we have the inimitable Pooh, clad as Spiderman from the shoulders down, but jauntily sporting the mask he colored at the party:

Next is Miss Sooby, who purports the highly contested theory that Buzz Lightyear could, in fact, under that space suit and all that buzzamatazz, have been female:

And finally, the reticent Bootsie, illustrating that even Supergirl can suffer a moment of weakness.  However, after receiving a much-needed dose of Kryptonite from her mother's pants leg, you will be relieved to know, she recovered sufficiently to hurl a foam bat-a-rang and knock over a tower of upside-down solo cups in true Supergirl fashion:

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for.  Although all three are deserving, only one of these three finalists will be awarded Googie's Superhero Award.  Drum roll, please.  And the winner is--

Wait!  It seems we have a write-in candidate.  Yes, folks, yet another Superhero has clawed her way to the top of the competitive heap to garner this most prestigious honor.  And here she is:

Yes!  I am proud to announce that Googie's Superhero Award goes to Cookie, the kids' mother.  Cookie braved the aftermath of a huge winter snowstorm to undertake a three-hour one-way drive with four children ages five and under just so that we could all go to this party and make this wonderful memory. 

In the picture she appears to be holding up a vehicle, but I guarantee you this is nothing compared to the weight she shoulders every single day in the anything-but-simple act of being mama to the other three finalists and their baby brother.

Take a bow, Cookie.  You are a Superhero in every sense of the word.