Tuesday, February 14, 2012

I Hate Being the Bad Guy

We've been preparing an Angry Birds Birthday Extavaganza for Wild Thing. His birthday was after Christmas, but we always have his party in February so he doesn't get skimmed over. It was going to be some party. Lots of themed food and games and lots of friends were on the agenda. We even bought primary colored fondant to make edible Angry Birds.

But, alas, the party shall not be. Wild Thing pushed his luck and took his chances. Despite the warnings and the loss of pinata whacking privliages, he continued down the road to destruction. He was already having a bad attitude over his school work when we discovered melted glue sticks on the wood stove.

The Historian sent him to work the wood pile. I complained that I didn't want to do anything else for his party. The Historian agreed and cancelled the party. All guests were contacted. All the favors were put away. Losing the party was a natural consequence of his behavior.

So why am I the one who feels like a slug?

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