First, a little gift for you. I’ve cleared a computational logjam at home and finally put up the pictures of Evan’s birthday paintball extravaganza AND just for the heck of it, some pix of the Broken Arrow Rooster Day Parade, complete with photos of Evan and his illustrious French Horn. Check them both out.

But on to the strange events of yesterday. It was a beautiful weekend; perfect weather, no organized events to be at except Erin’s piano recital. Both kids were invited for sleepovers elsewhere so Melissa and I found ourselves alone on Friday night. Woo Hoo! We took off for Mayfest and spent hours listening to good music and looking at art for sale. We were finally driven home by the unseasonably cool weather since yours truly hadn’t made use of his higher education to check the thermometer and had gone in shorts. I was eager to hear “Billy Joe Winghead” just on the basis of the cool name but alas, I was freezing.

As to the piano recital, well Erin performed admirably if I may say so. She usually does so we don’t get nervous by these things any more. So, we decided to break the piñata.

What? (I can imagine you asking)

Well, here’s where it gets a little complicated. Evan came home a couple of weeks ago saying that his Spanish class was having an end-of-year party and he signed up to bring a pinata – full of goodies. Well, Melissa immediately had a talk with him about that, instructing him to, in the future, sign up to bring chips, soda, ice or something simpler. So, a frantic trip was made to obtain a cardboard burro and fill him with cheap candy. The deed was done and he was dutifully delivered.

And nothing happened.

When we asked Evan about it, he said “Well, we didn’t break the piñata.” Why? He didn’t know. What happened to it? It was still sitting there in the Spanish classroom. So, we had gone to the trouble for nothing; therefore, Melissa went up to the school and demanded the piñata back. She was certainly polite about it but firm nonetheless.

Now what?

Well, nothing would do for the kids but that we should hang it from the ceiling and break it in the time honored fashion. That’s kind of hard since we have very tall cathedral-style ceilings but I have the reputation as the man who can be trusted to handle situations like this so I went to fetch the ladder and a bit of rope. My humorous hanging of the piñata via a hangman’s noose was unappreciated.

(Interesting side note:  there are many people in the world who will tell you that it is illegal to tie a hangman’s noose in a piece of rope.  I’m not sure why there are so many people that are worried about this issue but there is no shortage of people who will make sure you know about it.  I’ve always thought that was a ridiculous assertion but then there are humor books published that are full of weird laws; it’s illegal to set fire to a mule on Sunday, for example.  Maybe it’s true.)

So there it was, swinging at the end of the rope. The kids took turns whacking it with the broom until he finally spilled his guts, so to speak. Then the true motivation came out: they both wanted the piñata fragments for their own. Arguments ensued.

Perhaps you remember the story of how King Solomon arbitrated such a disagreement over a baby? He ordered a sword brought out to split the baby in half until the real mother pleaded for it to be saved. Well, Melissa went for the butcher knife. But this time, no protest was raised; she proceeded to saw the cardboard burro in half and each was presented to eagerly awaiting hands. They are now wall-hangings.