Thursday, June 10, 2010

Band BBQ or I Sincerely Hope My Homeowner's Insurance Is Paid Up

Me (randomly, to Bear): Hey, you know what would be fun? Let's have an end-of-the-year BBQ and invite your band class.

Bear: Cool!

I shot off an email to her band teacher, proposing the get-together and offering to supply drinks, hot dogs, hamburgers, and dessert if the kids would bring chips and side dishes. "Great!" she replied.

A couple of hours later, it occurred to me to ask Bear how many kids are in her band class. Which, you might have already realized, is probably how I should have opened the conversation.

Fifteen kids came, so it worked out fine.

Junior High band kids? For the record? NUTS. At 2:15, the first cars pulled into our driveway and disgorged a horde of teenagers onto my lawn. Taking about 2.5 seconds to get the lay of the land, they descended on the snack table and four-square court like locusts.
In the three hours they were here, I saw:

-backflips
-a sprained ankle
-an impromptu group song-and-dance routine to a Spongebob song
-people eating cupcakes whole
-karate
-people chasing each other with badminton racquets
-tree-climbing
-"dancing" (quotes to indicate loose classification of what looked like spastic body movements).
-a boy asking my cat out on a date
-much, much chasing of boys by girls and vice-versa
Bug parked herself in a chair near the four-square court and kept a covert eye on the action.

"They're insane," she informed me quietly, when I walked by.

"Hormones," I told her. "Powerful stuff."

She nodded and sought refuge in her book, peeking up now and then to watch with something akin to awe.
I also got to see Bear in her absolute element. She was giggly, goofy, and so happy. "I had the BEST time!" she told me afterwards.
A couple of days before the BBQ, she told me she was kind of nervous about it.

"Why? Are you afraid it will be lame?" I asked her.

"Yeah. Kind of," she admitted.

"No way!" I reassured her. "I bought party hats, cute little noisemakers, and treat bags today. It's going to be awesome!"

I watched horror creep over her face.

"Oh, and we're going to have face painting!" I chirped.

Her mouth hung open.

"Kidding," I told her.

She sagged in relief, "Oh man, I thought you were serious. That would have been awful. I can't even imagine."

"Give me some credit, kid," I told her.

Why is it so hard for them to believe that we were ever teenagers ourselves?

6 comments:

quilting grandma said...

AWESOME! YOU DONE GOOD! Bear will forever remember this moment when she had children and they are in band or whatever extra curricular activities at school.

I still remember an end of the year school picnic at one of my schoolmates farm. The sweet smelling alfalfa crop was still up in the fields and we all ran wild in the fields, laying down on the ground playing hiding go see. Her parents and farm hands served grilled hot dogs; chips and ice sundaes. I will never forget that fun day.

quilting grandma said...

Oops! Correction. Second sentence the word should be "has children" not "had children."

Dawn in Austin said...

What a wonderful party for the end of the year. I have to admit my curiousity is aroused: asked your cat to marry him? Oh, do tell.

I love your sense of humor in scaring your kids with your potential for akwardness. Always keep 'em guessing!

Nana said...

It looks like they had a blast! So much so, in fact, that you'd best be prepared for Bear to ask you to throw another band picnic at the end of next school year. Which cat does the boy want to marry - Maisy or Mittens?

Jen on the Edge said...

No matter how cool they think they are, parties at home are still fun.

Tom said...

Nana: Maisy. She is fluffier.

Dad: Guess we built the swingset strong enough.

Pat: My XM-7 ipod boombox blasted the beats and put my neighbor's Celine Dion broadcasts to shame.

As for me, dang, I just do NOT have barbecue skills.