My blog, Big Teeth & Clouds, is completely family friendly while being non-offensive to my husband, mother-in-law, pastor, and neighbors. Some posts are touching. Some are funny. It’s unbelievable with all of those filters that I can still manage humor. I can, but some of the best stories never see the light of day.
So, it is only here you will ever read about: Big douche bag and the piñata.
On a gorgeous fall day in October, my family went to a neighborhood hay ride. To call it just a hay ride is to completely understate the scope of the event. There were pony rides, an extensive petting zoo, mountains of food, and a piñata.
My daughter, Julia, and I petted and fed goats for more than an hour. Then our hosts diverted the collective attention of about 35 children by shouting, “let’s do the piñata!”
A swarming crowd of younglings formed under the cute pumpkin piñata. These kids ranged in age from 1 ½ to 12 years of age. Bags were passed around and giant kids pushed their way to the front.
I interjected that perhaps a shortest to tallest protocol should be initiated. I attempted to organize the crowd.
Cute little toddlers walked up and swung for the fences. The pumpkin stayed steady, unaffected. The parents cheered for their little ones. The bat was twice as tall as the little darlings.
Then, apparently annoyed by the amount of time all of this sportsmanship was taking, a man to my left said, “get in there Cryin’”.
The boy’s name isn’t really “Cryin’” but in addition to being a holy terror, he once spent 45 minutes at my kitchen table doing just that. It’s an apt name change, as is my re-naming his father “big douche bag”.
So big douche bag shoves Cryin’ to the front of the line. This is approximately 12-15 places ahead of his actual turn for hitting the piñata. There are no blindfolds involved yet. The thing is stationary. Seven-year-old Cryin’ knows his way around a bat.
Cryin’ moves back and steps into his swing. The bat strikes true, right in the center of poor pumpkin piñata. The crowd gasps as candy drops straight down in a debris pattern no bigger than the pumpkin’s original circumference.
35 children lunged into a heaving mass to retrieve sweet tarts and glow bracelets. All but a few of the tiniest tots have been denied the pleasure of taking a whack. Big douche bag is laughing, “I didn’t know he had that in him!”
Bullshit you didn’t, BDB.
Candy can cure any kid’s piñata-related slight and we were able to make sure each child got some. But, who does that? What grown-up sends their kid scrambling over a bunch of babies like that?
A big douche bag, that’s who.