This weekend Catcher had a birthday party to attend for twins in his kindergarten class. Because Alex was in town on a Saturday, we made it a family affair. There were games, old-fashioned sack races and a pinata (I suspect the parents filled it with all the Halloween candy they didn't want lying around their house, but I'm just guessing). After the 30 or so children attending the party failed to crack the pinata, they called in the big guns--parents.
First up was an athletically-dressed mom who took several whacks at the paper mache fortress then handed the stick, or rather broom handle, to Alex. He succeeded in cracking the handle but couldn't put a dent in that damn pinata. Actually, that's not completely accurate. He did put several dents in the freaky pumpkin-scarecrow, but that thing would not shatter. Catcher was jumping up and down saying "Go Dad," and I enjoyed watching the eager little partygoers waiting for a rainstorm of candy to shower down upon their heads. After the splintered stick incident, the birthday dad finally resorted to Plan C and pulled the magic string--or something--that holds the candy in place. Chaos ensued...you know...candy...kids.