It's official. My baby boy, the Evil Genius, is really a teenager. This momentus occasion was marked in style. By all accounts the Glow-in-the-Dark Hot Tub Dance Party (oontz oontz oontz oontz) Birthday Rave was a smashing success.
This morning, my basement looks like Willy Wonka's factory had an explosion, what with all the candy wrappers everywhere. The backyard is a mess of silly string and abandoned glow sticks. There are glow-in-the dark stars, planets, animals, and zombies all over my patio furniture. And there is a trail of pizza sauce stains and potato chip crumbs--the only signs that there was any food for these boys at all. It really was like a mass of locusts descended on the picnic table.
This morning, my basement looks like Willy Wonka's factory had an explosion, what with all the candy wrappers everywhere. The backyard is a mess of silly string and abandoned glow sticks. There are glow-in-the dark stars, planets, animals, and zombies all over my patio furniture. And there is a trail of pizza sauce stains and potato chip crumbs--the only signs that there was any food for these boys at all. It really was like a mass of locusts descended on the picnic table.
The Evil Genius is pretty pleased with the results. It met all his criteria for "epic 13th birthday party." So, we have that going for us.
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