Abigail at the Petting Zoo

Man, if it's one thing that will try a man's soul, it's an elementary school field trip.

I rarely jump for joy when I get 'volunteered' for one of these, but, being a parent and everything I'm sort of obligated to follow through.  Part of the whole 'Dad' thing, I guess.  Kris gets way more into than I ever do, but she's a mom, so maybe that's not all that hard to believe.  They're wired all screwy.

I've chaperoned a few of Alayna's school trips in the past (one most recently in April, if you'll recall), but this time around I'd be helping out Abby's kindergarten class on a half-day outing to a local petting zoo farm in Freeland.  I took the day off for this fiasco, which, all in all, wasn't too horrifying, but did - without a doubt - reinforce my previous belief that I had made the absolute right choice pursuing a career in middle school education instead of elementary education.

Those teachers have their hands full.

Check it out. . .

The class boards the field trip bus.  I didn't realize it, but Abby would later tell me that this would be her very first ride on a school bus, which I didn't get to experience first hand because the school had the adult chaperones drive separately to the petting zoo farm.  Why?  Who knows.

This was a PM field trip, so upon arrival the first thing the teachers did was feed the kids lunch. Abby's a big fan of lunch.

I was a little too slow to pull out my phone for this pic.  There were a few other kids with their heads in there prior to me finally taking a picture, but, by then, well. . . .

I don't care if this is where milk comes from, this is just gross.

(In case you were curious as to what the inside of a cow looks like, here you go.)

Mrs. Vandenboom's kindergarten class.

I'm assuming they usually look more like this.

On the farm, getting ready for the big tour. . .

Mustering of troops

The first stop on the tour was a barn where they had a bunch of unwilling animals standing around, waiting to be man-handled (child-handled?) by a bunch of five- and six-year-olds.

Time for a lecture on animal care and whatever else.

Abby's friend/beau, Jackson, was one of two students out of the entire kindergarten to get to feed a baby cow from some plastic bottle.

(Clearly, Abby was excited about this.)

After the feeding, they split the kindergarten in two, with half of the kids staying behind in the barn to take turns holding various barnyard animals while the other - us, as it were - got to board a giant trailer for a 'hayride.'

This kind of thing is always funny.  Whether you're five or thirty-five.

After our lackluster hay ride, we returned to the barn and the two kindergarten groups switched places, with our regiment of midgets now getting to grope and feel an assortment of unwilling barn animals.. .

Sweet Christ, I hate goats.

The only animal I hate more than goats is cats.  Also known as God's mistake.

(It's a baby bird.  I couldn't tell you what kind.)

That sheep looks pissed.

After some heavy petting, the kids were instructed to line up on the far side of large field, and were each given cups of animal feed (you know, the crap that looks like dog food but smells much, much worse.)  Across the way, behind a fence and locked gates, were several paddocks full of sheep and goats.  Across the empty field, the livestock and children stared at each other.  In my life I have never experienced such tension.

Chaos.

After awhile, Abby ran out of animal feed, so she decided to start feeding the animals grass instead.  I would have made fun of her for this, but, believe it or not, the animals kept eating it.  Whatever.

Some more involuntary petting.

Why was this here?  These are the questions I don't ask at petting zoos farms.

BFFs.  Or at least until she forgot all about it.

Get on da bus!

- Brian

Plymouth Rocks

Hi, America.

Kris and I are old hands when it comes to putting together little kids' birthday parties.  We've organized quite a few over the years, but they've always been solo affairs.  That's great and all, except since the girls are getting older and hanging out with a lot of the same kids, we knew there was bound to be a higher percentage of parents out there that just couldn't make two birthday parties in a three-week period.  That's a lot to ask for.

So, consequently, this year we felt that it would be a lot easier to throw one, great combo party for the girls instead, scheduled exactly between the girls' individual birth dates.  That way we could capitalize on the guests invited, throw a grander affair, and save ourselves a lot of gray hairs in the process.

The Pavilion at Plymouth Park (we reserved the left side.)

We wanted a venue that was outdoors and relatively inexpensive, and ultimately I reserved one of the large pavilions at Plymouth Park, which had grills, bathrooms, electricity, running water, etc. - all the basics we'd need to host a birthday party.  Plus, the pavilion we reserved was right next to the Fun Zone, a large, wooden monstrosity of a playground that's like heroin for little kids.

We decided to let each girl invite around twelve kids total, from their individual classrooms and Girl Scout troops, along with a few 'combo friends' from the neighborhood (kids they both play with regularly.)  We expected them to each get back about 50 - 75% of their RSVPs as 'definitely attending,' which is about normal, I should think.

They got about 95%.

We had over 30 kids on hand, when all was said and done, and about the same number of adults.  Around 75 people, which was way more than we had hoped for.  A third of the attendees was immediate family and grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, etc., but the rest was all kids from their various social circles, random parents, and a few drop-ins from last-minute RSVPs.  Fortunately, we had enough food, enough party favors, and enough patience to prevail:  although there were occasional downpours, tantrums, and some drama, all in all we pulled off the largest birthday party in Hough history.

Here's how it happened. . .

Because the girls' party was going to be such a large affair, Kris was going in 'sheet cake' mode.  This meant simpler designs for the girls, which they were fortunately cool with.  Abby wanted a sunny day scene, with grass, ,etc., and Alayna just wanted a peace sign.

Kris gets psychedelic. . .

We set aside some combo presents for the girls, from us, for after the party.  These were presents that were too obvious to give them on their actual birthdays.  For example, we got both girls a sleeping bag, so if Abby got one on May 21st, Alayna would know right away she was getting one (neither girl had one), and would just be waiting around 'til June 16th for hers.  Shit like that.

Kris, hard at work in her office.

The girls were pretty happy with the finished products.

We rolled in the morning of the party, the van loaded up with decorations and food, and set to work establishing headquarters.  (This sign was posted on a wall of the pavilion we reserved.)

Mom and John met us up there to help set up the table area and grill (we brought theirs, 'cause the weather forecast for the day wasn't pretty - a 90% chance of rain, right around the time of our party - and the park grills were outdoors.)

The Fun Zone at Plymouth Park.  A little damp.

The snack/beverage table (with some beer and water coolers to the side.)

Dad, Cindy and the Whites showed up shortly afterwards.  The boys were a bit old for the other kids, but they were cool about it.

Dad gives Brian and earful about something. . .

Kids started trickling in right at noon, when we advertised the party was going to start.  This is one of Alayna's friends from her Girl Scout troop (I forget her name.  Kris would know.)

Yours Truly and some six-year-old.

If this kid suddenly started doing Olympic Rings, I wouldn't be surprised.  He has more upper-body strength than I do.

Alayna with some of her homegirls, Alivia, Katie, and Katelyn.

Hough clan, hangin' out.

We had some leftover balloons lying around after decorating the pavilion, so obviously they were confiscated by children and turned into weapons of war.

Abby and her 'frenemy,' Ella.

Cannonball and Alivia

Birthday girl

Reba, one of the neighborhood regulars

Ella and Abby, now once again cool with one another.

We kept it simple for dinner: hot dogs, cole slaw, chips, fruit and veggies, etc.

John had a business meeting a little into the party, so Uncle Chris stepped in to man the grill. . .

After about an hour of sunny weather, someone pissed off the Rain God. . .

Kids are weird.  This would piss off most adults I know, but these guys just turned around and ran back into the rain to play.

We called in our horde of minors for a not-at-all-healthy meal of processed fats, carbs and sugar.  Give 'em a chance to dry off an calm the f*** down.

I may have taught the children how to appropriately utilize the Gaelic term slainté!

After awhile, the rain stopped and the sun came out - eerily akin to what we used to experience during Florida summers, on a daily basis.  Then, randomly, I spotted this kid just standing on top of this structure.  Like people do.

Wearing herself out.

Swingers

One of the upsides to hosting huge-ass parties is your kids end up scoring a king's ransom in plunder. . .

Solving another guest dilemma.  That's how I roll.

Abby and Grandma Jordan

The Council of Moms holding a meeting on the village green

Chris and Nicole's son, Tucker

Cake time.  Cue the chaos.

A huge problem arose when nearly every girl in attendance felt they deserved to sit next to the birthday girls.  That was a blast to sort out.

That's Abby's new thing: blowing out her sister's candles before she can.  A hilarious joke that NEVER GETS OLD.

The vultures begin to circle. . .

MORE SUGAR

Puttin' Nana to work

Foreboding doom.  Another downpour prepares to roll across the plains. . .

Taking Abby out for a ride

Green flowers are my favorite.

Kris busts out the party favors.  I really wanted to go with squirt guns this year, as no one likes frickin' bubbles and rub-on tattoos and pencils and the usual crap one usually scores at a little kid's birthday party.  We threw in guns, leis, and candy in a souvenir cup.  Thug life.

Sans kids, stress free

Filling up the ordinance. . .

Saying bye to Grandma

You ever hear that 'Whip/Nae Nae' song?  It's pretty much cancer in music-form.  I honestly don't think I've heard a more annoying song, which would explain its insane popularity among elementary school kids.

We cleaned up all the decor, scooped up the presents and leftover food, and headed home to drain coolers and tear into presents. . .

More Shopkins stuff.  Alayna ended up scoring a crapload of this stuff, which is seriously one of the stupidest and ridiculously popular toys I've seen (see: 'Whip/Nae Nae' above.)

Water guns.  'Cause Summer.

Don't buy your balloons from the dollar store, people.  Just don't.

Abby wanted a make-up kit more than anything else this year, so she was pretty excited Papa and Nana got her one for her birthday.  (Moderation is still a few years off.)

These mysteriously ended up in the trash when the kids weren't looking.  I blame house gnomes.

Kris' office is messy.

They scored a lot of Playmobil this year.  Probably won't have to buy them more for awhile.  Sure as hell beats Shopkins, if anyone's interested in my opinion. . .

Abby opens up her new sleeping bag.  They've been wanting some ever since we started telling them of our camping plans this summer. . .

The girls had picked these out months and months ago, and surprisingly Abby didn't want a pink, girl one - she opted for a glow-in-the-dark firefly one instead.

The horror. . .

I need a drink.

- Brian