Seven shriek-ey, fast footed, giggly girls.
What do you do now that birthday parties age with your children? As soon as the girls arrived, they disappeared as quick as they could into Gracie's room, and the door closed immediately, leaving Jeremy and I in the dust, munching on appetizers by our lonesome selves. We drank coffee silently, raising our eyebrows as we listened, discerning the sounds and thumps that came from the floor above us. Good scream? Bad scream? Was that crying? Nope...just a rumpus about to start.
The girls were really good. Loud, but really good. A half hour into the party, I grabbed my lasso and gathered the herd and moved them on the deck to explain the Balloon Hunt.
This is year number three for Balloon Hunt. Ten balloons are hidden in the yard and at each balloon there is a bag with a party favor for them to gather. Each kid is given a color coded balloon map that they are supposed to follow in order from 1 to 10. Each map is different, so it doesn't turn into a race, just a hunt where everyone gets a prize at each balloon. The kids dig it, and by golly this year was the best one ever, because one surprise guest shone down sweetly and warmly as the girls ran and searched in the 60 degree sunshine. In February. On Balloon Hunt day. Totally unheard of, and it was glorious.
The girls were panting and the hunt ended in a slow jog. Ditching the sun, they collapsed onto the shady deck to rummage through their new treasures. Only one close call with the favors: that is not lip gloss, honey, it's glitter glue, so pleeeze don't put it on your lips! eek!
And what do us country folk do at a birthday party?? We feed them chickens, that's what we do.
Then we go ride tractors and race the old John Deere with our gap toothed smiles, MmmmHmm.
Racin' tractors sure makes a girl hungry. How 'bout we go on in and have everyone decorate their own cupcakes?
And after the girls were all good and sugared up they were released into the arms of their parents to let the Rumpus continue at home. So long, Rumpus, until we meet again next year.
This mama's tired. : )