up!”
Hey,
that was kind of awesome.
If
only I could get Charlie to listen to me like that.
I smiled at the thought.
“In two minutes we will head across the
street together toward the field. You will walk in a single-file line. You will not push, fight, hit, wrestle, or give wedgies without my permission to do so,” I
paused for dramatic effect. Some kids chuckled. “Just like the year before,
there are new rules, so listen up. Each of you will work with a partner. There
are six teams represented here. Each team has a color—which matches the color
of balloon you will go for. The object is to get as many of your team’s
balloons off of the giant tarp and into your team’s bucket. Does everyone
understand so far?”
The kids cheered wildly.
“What’s the catch?” Angie yelled from
the patio.
I smiled wickedly.
“There can only be one team member on the tarp at any given time. The other one should
be guarding the bucket. Whatever team has the most balloons in the end—of their
color—will be the winners. You may pop any color balloon you see that is not
your team’s color.”
“Can we steal balloons from inside the
buckets, Uncle B?” Cody asked.
“Good question, Cody…yes, you can.”
Excited energy sizzled throughout the
young crowd.
“Line up!”
My eyes roamed the yard as each kid ran
to join the line. It was then that I saw Charlie roll up her jeans and kick off
her heels. The flip-flops she was sliding her feet into looked a couple sizes
too big for her. They’re probably Angie’s .
When she joined the line, I couldn’t
help but laugh.
She was barely a head taller than Cody’s
birthday buddies.
This
is gonna be good.
Charlie
Thankfully, Angie had loaned me a pair
of flip-flops so that I could participate in the annual game of water wars. I
was grateful for them. She had decided to stay back with some of the other
parents so that she could frost the cake, but as I joined the group, she patted
me on the shoulder and wished me luck. I hoped I had only imagined the
forewarning in her voice.
My partner, a kid named Kevin, had already
deemed me “bucket guard”. I was bummed at first, but quickly reminded myself that
I was twenty-one; he was eight.
Our color was red.
The tarp that lay in the center of the
field was huge and scattered with at least three hundred water balloons.
Apparently several parents had contributed to the small supply, which I had
helped fill up. They had also squirted the tarp with dish soap. I had laughed
several times during the game explanation, thinking that Briggs had taken his dramatics
a little too far, but now I found myself nervous. These boys—though
young—looked ruthless, as did Briggs.
He had teamed up with the birthday boy,
and lucky for me he was several buckets away from team red. I didn’t want to be
anywhere near the crossfire of Briggs. It wouldn’t end well for me, I was
certain of that.
My strategy was a simple one: Guard and
block. But somewhere in my head was a voice that yelled, “Don’t draw attention to yourself , Charlie.” I vowed to listen to that voice.
As Briggs whistled, indicating war to
commence, I took my battle stance. Nothing and no one was going to steal our
balloons. It was Kevin and I all the way.
“Red rules!” I yelled, feeling a bubble
of adrenaline squeeze at my insides.
Okay,
so much for not drawing attention to myself…
Poor Kevin was slipping and sliding all
over the slick tarp. With six kids going after their color at one time, while
simultaneously trying to fend off attacks, the sight was pure chaos. Briggs was
guarding his blue bucket and laughing hysterically as the scene in front of us
played out. When he caught my eye, I looked away quickly. I did not want him
concocting any evil plans where I was concerned—especially not while I was
surrounded by all this ammo.
Kevin finally staggered off the tarp carrying
four red balloons in his arms. He hurried over to me so he could drop them
Hey,
that was kind of awesome.
If
only I could get Charlie to listen to me like that.
I smiled at the thought.
“In two minutes we will head across the
street together toward the field. You will walk in a single-file line. You will not push, fight, hit, wrestle, or give wedgies without my permission to do so,” I
paused for dramatic effect. Some kids chuckled. “Just like the year before,
there are new rules, so listen up. Each of you will work with a partner. There
are six teams represented here. Each team has a color—which matches the color
of balloon you will go for. The object is to get as many of your team’s
balloons off of the giant tarp and into your team’s bucket. Does everyone
understand so far?”
The kids cheered wildly.
“What’s the catch?” Angie yelled from
the patio.
I smiled wickedly.
“There can only be one team member on the tarp at any given time. The other one should
be guarding the bucket. Whatever team has the most balloons in the end—of their
color—will be the winners. You may pop any color balloon you see that is not
your team’s color.”
“Can we steal balloons from inside the
buckets, Uncle B?” Cody asked.
“Good question, Cody…yes, you can.”
Excited energy sizzled throughout the
young crowd.
“Line up!”
My eyes roamed the yard as each kid ran
to join the line. It was then that I saw Charlie roll up her jeans and kick off
her heels. The flip-flops she was sliding her feet into looked a couple sizes
too big for her. They’re probably Angie’s .
When she joined the line, I couldn’t
help but laugh.
She was barely a head taller than Cody’s
birthday buddies.
This
is gonna be good.
Charlie
Thankfully, Angie had loaned me a pair
of flip-flops so that I could participate in the annual game of water wars. I
was grateful for them. She had decided to stay back with some of the other
parents so that she could frost the cake, but as I joined the group, she patted
me on the shoulder and wished me luck. I hoped I had only imagined the
forewarning in her voice.
My partner, a kid named Kevin, had already
deemed me “bucket guard”. I was bummed at first, but quickly reminded myself that
I was twenty-one; he was eight.
Our color was red.
The tarp that lay in the center of the
field was huge and scattered with at least three hundred water balloons.
Apparently several parents had contributed to the small supply, which I had
helped fill up. They had also squirted the tarp with dish soap. I had laughed
several times during the game explanation, thinking that Briggs had taken his dramatics
a little too far, but now I found myself nervous. These boys—though
young—looked ruthless, as did Briggs.
He had teamed up with the birthday boy,
and lucky for me he was several buckets away from team red. I didn’t want to be
anywhere near the crossfire of Briggs. It wouldn’t end well for me, I was
certain of that.
My strategy was a simple one: Guard and
block. But somewhere in my head was a voice that yelled, “Don’t draw attention to yourself , Charlie.” I vowed to listen to that voice.
As Briggs whistled, indicating war to
commence, I took my battle stance. Nothing and no one was going to steal our
balloons. It was Kevin and I all the way.
“Red rules!” I yelled, feeling a bubble
of adrenaline squeeze at my insides.
Okay,
so much for not drawing attention to myself…
Poor Kevin was slipping and sliding all
over the slick tarp. With six kids going after their color at one time, while
simultaneously trying to fend off attacks, the sight was pure chaos. Briggs was
guarding his blue bucket and laughing hysterically as the scene in front of us
played out. When he caught my eye, I looked away quickly. I did not want him
concocting any evil plans where I was concerned—especially not while I was
surrounded by all this ammo.
Kevin finally staggered off the tarp carrying
four red balloons in his arms. He hurried over to me so he could drop them
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