On Sunday afternoon, we all scurried over to my darling little cousin Mikayla's second birthday party. Born at 28 weeks gestation, Kay Kay is a true miracle. She cheated death in her very first breath. Look at that, I'm a poet and I didn't know it.
Anyways, because we are all so thankful for the little toot and because we knew there would be cake, we were front and center at Kay Kay's birthday blow-out in her Grandmommy's backyard. Grandmommy, by the way, is my Aunt Tam. With a thousand varieties of plants and flowers, the green, shady stretch is more like a resort than a backyard. And this year they added a fancy, schmancy pool with a slide and all. Sugar-coated hooligans were littered about like New Year's Eve confetti.
Although my dad, Big D as I like to call him, is generally anti-social, he will make the social gatherings if one of these three people are included: Aunt Tam, Cousin Stephanie and, for God's sake, Cousin Krista. It's really a goal of mine and my sister's to be loved as much as those ladies. Tammy and Dad were once married to siblings and, although both marriages ended in divorce around the same time, my father has always considered them his family. He's pretty selective in that group, so I've always been glad for them in his life.
Now I'm only laying all this out so you, my devoted reader, will understand just how much my dad loves The Tam. The term, I believe, is like a fat kid love cake, to borrow a line from 50 Cent. (On an unrelated note, my dad loves 50 Cent. Big D ain't scared to bust out a rhyme, either.)
As one score of children leaped in and out of the pool while a whole other score bounced upon that huge, rental castle, my little Ridge snuck up in the playhouse swing set to, well, relieve himself. I didn't notice it because I was busy chasing Rolan, who was literally double-fisting Coca-Colas abandoned by other random guests. I don't really allow for the pop drinking so he was gulping this shit up like it was last call at some honky tonk.
So, perhaps you are wondering how I did notice Ridge pulling down his pants just in time to stop the impending urination. Well, that's because PaPa Dennis freaked out as though the peeing 3-year-old was our old buddy Pee Wee at the back of that adult theater. I scurried over, pulling up Ridge's underwear before the business started. Of course he was confused. As most of you know, men at any age don't understand why peeing outside is such a big deal. In fact, I think my dad may very well be the only one.
As all this pandemonium was busting out, Rolan sprinted gleefully toward a ice chest lined with half-empty pops. Miranda, Krista, Katie and Aunt Tam bit their lips to suppress rolling laughter, as they all well know just how damn seriously Big D takes the proper manners. In the mean time, Dad is warning of Ridge's future expulsion from school and other delinquent fall outs as a chain-reaction from such behavior if I don't get a handle on it. I blame it on his Marine Corp raising, I suppose. Of my dad, my father-in-law Wallice likes to say, "With a please and a thank-you, Dennis will politely kick your ass."
After I got Ridge moved to the front yard, where only random motorist might sneak a peek of his business, I couldn't help put chuckle. Seriously, I thought of Pee Wee Herman.
***On a side note, Ridge went down the slide into the pool and that fast little Rolan certainly tried!