Happy Half-Birthday To ME!

Editor's Note for the uninitiated:  Since my actual birthday is on Christmas when everyone is usually celebrating with their families, when I was a kid my mom and dad enacted the half-birthday party which took place in June when school was out.  (Giving me the opportunity to have a party with my friends.)  Next to the family road-trip or visiting Gramma and Grampa in Iowa, this was the highlight of my Summer.  While I had a McDonald's birthday, frequent trips to Elm Creek Park Beach (THE ZIPLINE OF DOOM!), there was one particular birthday that showcased my mom/family's particular brand of creativity.  Here at the half-way point to the big 4-0, my embarrassment for your amusement.  Enjoy:

During the Summer of 1980, we were enjoying our new home in a quiet cul-de-sac in good ol' BP.  We hadn't really made a lot of neighborhood friends yet, so when my half-birthday rolled around on June 25th we imported a few buddies from our old stomping ground to come over and celebrate. (This was conveniently only 3-4 blocks away and across 69th, in case you were feeling sympathetic.)

Mom had this great birthday party game she was able to pull from one of those "Do-It-Yourself" kids party guides she acquired at the Library.  And to tell you the truth, it was pretty cool:  The idea was that it was a tactile scavenger hunt/adventure you could host throughout your house.  The adult/parent would have all the kids be blindfolded, then they would all hold hands and walk on a pre-determined route while the adult provided "spooky" commentary.  Kids walk across a sheet in the basement that's been covered in Corn Flakes?  "We're in a cave!  Watch out for the bat eggs!"  Hang a bunch of wet yarn from the ceiling?  "Be careful of the spider webs!"  Have the kids dig around for prizes in a bowl full of peeled grapes?  "Can you find it in the bowl of EYEBALLS?!?!?"

Right.  A little hinky.  But fun.  And creative if you're on a budget.  You're welcome, parents. 

MY favorite bit was when we meandered into the back yard and were made to tromp through the little kiddie wading pool ("We're in the jungle and need to cross the river!  Watch out for pirahna!"), so when the charade was all said and done, I really really wanted to go swimming.  (My mom reminds me that I had significant issues with water, which is to say there wasn't a body of water that I didn't want to go swimming in.  While kiddie pools aren't a big deal, she still spent a great deal of time chasing me down so I didn't go running into the Gulf of Mexico fully clothed, or leaping off into a drop-off area.  You get the point.)

I whined (probably) and my mom finally relented, although she told me that we'd be having cake soon and if I was going to come back in the house "you need to take off your wet clothes so you don't go tracking the water in."  With those instructions in mind, I went back out to the little pool and splooshed.  A little while later, she yelled out the window that she was cutting the cake so I high-tailed it back inside,  careful to remember the instructions she gave me.  No. Wet. Clothes. In. The. House.  Annnnnnnd scene:

This would explain my naked cake-eating kink in my later years.