This afternoon my sister hosted a baby shower for my sister-in-law. My younger bother got married last year and they are expecting their first baby next month. Her name will be Ava Daisy. Or, where I'm concerned, because I can't seem to say it as two separate names, Avadaisy.
I was in charge of cake and balloons and my mom and sister were doing the rest of the food. They volunteered to do it all despite my protestations that I, too, could contribute more than a bakery-ordered specialty cake and decorations.
I never should have told them about the lasagna.
Attendance was good, probably because we told everyone there weren't going to be any games. You could hear the collective sigh of relief, so I must not be the only person who loathes baby shower games. I am a person who loves most games most of the time, from sport games like co-ed softball right down to Clue. But I hate baby shower games. I usually try to lose as fast as I can so I can remove the painfully fake, rictus grin I force myself to display as I try to appear friendly and innocuous and not my usual bloodthirsty, highly-competitive self which is secretly urging me to just KNOCK HER DOWN AND TAKE HER FREAKING DIAPER PINS!!
Strangely enough, despite the fact no alcohol was being served, this party ended like many parties I attend end - with me wearing a pair of underpants on my head.
My sister has two children and they are the best, most brilliant, most beautiful niece and nephew on the planet. However, my niece Kimber, who is under the age of two, simply didn't understand that the wondrous pink packages weren't for her. She was heartbroken that she got scolded every time she reached for one.
GRANDMA AND AUNT HOLLY TO THE RESCUE!! My mom and I had puchased a few presents for her though, just so she wouldn't feel left out. I bought toys and my mother, ever the practical gift-giver, bought clothes. Clothes that included Kimber's first package of big-girl underpants.
Suffice it to say, she was excited and fascinated by the concept. Right away, she pulled a pair on over her jeans, then handed me a pair to put on.
"Sorry, chicken (that's my nickname for her)," I said, "but I don't think these are going to fit me."
She puckered up like she was going to bawl. I was totally raining on her underpants parade. Oh lord, I couldn't have that. "Buuuuut they might fit on my head!" I said excitedly, and snapped a pair of Disney princess underpants on my head, which she found HILARIOUS. Then she popped a pair on her head, too. We sat in the living room floor, ponytails poking out the leg holes, laughing hysterically.
"Oh, man," my sister said as she walked in from the kitchen to see what we were doing. "You have no idea what you've started."
And the legend continues...