I went to a kid’s birthday party last weekend, no not as a clown or mime, but rather my fiancee’s nephew’s bash. The most exciting part of any party is the gift opening. The second graders huddled around, like jackals waiting for the scraps to fall. Their greedy little eyes and icing covered fingers were twitching with energy and jealousy. Above the din, one little psycho stood out.
Every gift that was handed over prompted one boy to exclaim, “I’ll bet that’s a samurai sword! Or a BB gun, but probably a sword!” Nope, sorry junior, it’s in fact a pogo stick. “Oh man! I thought that was a samurai sword!” Then it repeated about ten times. Yes, nothing says good parenting or a thoughtful gift for an eight year old like a melee weapon. “Here son, now make sure you don’t run with it! Only decapitate another child if their parents approve!” In fairness, I was that age once. What would have been my favorite gift ever? A samurai sword.