I know it might sound mean to say that my niece’s first birthday party was shitty – but please understand that I’m being literal here, not figurative! I love that little tiny pickle for all she’s worth, but mark my words here – her first birthday celebration will cause the creation of at least a couple Immodiumabuser-like blogs in the years to come. The incidents that transpired last weekend will be recounted on multiple therapy couches for decades to come.

 

The on-and-off rain should have been a foreboding warning of things to come at the party, but who knew the worst part of the day wouldn’t be the shutting down of the jumping castle? Who could have guessed that my wife entering the jumping castle and then proceeding to slip and fall wouldn’t be the highlight of this post? Certainly not me or those four kids she wiped out as she flew back down the ladder and wiped them out like a tsunami through a small village. Granted the castle was slippery from the rain, but it sure as hell was funny to see her take those kids out and I don’t mean to the ball game. Don’t worry, the kids were ok – save for some slight bruising…

As a general rule, infants and really young kids can’t help their digestive system and aren’t yet in control of their bowels, so they’re exempt from judgment.  Sure they stink and no one wants to be around them, but even I don’t hold it against them. On the other hand, older kids who are like seven or eight should be able to recognize that all-too-familiar gurgle in the pit of your stomach that tells you not to make any sudden movements. One faulty sneeze can mean the difference between new shorts and new friends…

 

I don’t know many things for certain, but one thing I know for sure when I see it is a crop duster. One young party lass has been taught the art form very early, but she hasn’t quite mastered the stealth part of it yet…It started innocently enough with a little circling in the den but that game turned dangerous very quickly…Without giving a blow by blow, she couldn’t hold in her excitement for the party any longer and turned the powder room into a literal shit storm.

 

Everyone knows that I’m an Imodium vending machine always willing to share my stash with anyone in need. Imodium is the great equalizer and I am always stocked to the brim. After the events of this past weekend, I am starting to realize that I need to make an announcement whenever I enter a party, sort of like a flight attendant, advising the correct course of action for anyone in gastric distress. I actually think a better solution for the future generations is to add this site and it’s teachings to grade school curriculums nationwide so that our children know what to do in an emergency. Forget Stop, Drop and Roll! Knowing when to say when you need Imodium is way more essential than the fire drill line up routine and three times as likely to be necessary than any fire drill they’ll ever go through.

 

You think your disgusted hearing about this, imagine how her mother felt – she had to clean up that kid, clean up that bathroom and then do the walk of shame out the front door with the clothing and bathroom contents in a hazmat bag. And the girl that exploded was like seven or eight years old – that’s some adult sized shit right there. That is not a toddler quick swipe and your done – that’s a huge mess on aisle two that might need reinforcements and a bottle of Lysol. Who says “I’ll wash the hand towels and bathmat and return them?” about the bathroom linens their child just destroyed? It was nice to offer, but if ever there was a clear sign that you need a new bathroom floor mat – that was it! And really, how much could hand towels cost? For all that is holy, throw them out and get new ones! There is not enough Tide in the store to wash that out…And do you think I’m ever going to use the linens in that house again? How will I know if these are the tainted ones? You can tell me that you washed them ten or twenty times, but come on. No way Jose!     

Forget the birthday girl; the only real winner in this weekend’s lottery was the plumbing in the walls by dodging that bullet! Roto Rooter would have definitely been paying a visit to their house if that malotav cocktail made its way through those pipes and not splashed across the floor and the walls!

I’m wondering what Martha Stewart would advise you to write on the thank you card for the family that brought a child that exploded in your bathroom? Do you even still send a thank you note? I mean, no one is glad that little bitch showed up and does it matter what gift she gave? There is no gift that you can open that would make up for the “special” memories that little girl created at the party.