This afternoon, I experienced one of those moments in time where everything seems to stand still and you are unable to react until it is too late. Normally, these instances involve me spilling something all over the newly mopped kitchen floor, so other than getting frustrated with myself, it's not the end of the world as I know it. Today was a bit different in that I'm sure it took a few years off of my life. Good thing I plan to live at least a hundred more years, eh?
I was with the kidlets at a birthday party for a friend's child. The kidlets varied from being thrilled to be there and curled up on my lap crying. In other words, it was a typical kid's birthday party. Towards the end of the time there, the giant pinata was deemed ready to be attacked by a baseball bat. The parents in charge of the party did a really good job of making sure the kidlets were in a line safely out of range of whoever was swinging the bat at any given time. Then it was time for Pig Jr. to have a turn.
My son put down his decorative box which was given to him to collect candy once the star-shaped cardboard creation exploded. He took a few light swings at the pinata, and ran off to let someone else have a turn. Before the next kidlet, coincidentally his sister Rooster, got up to take her turn, I called out to ask him where he put his box.
The next thirty seconds are simultaneously a blur and crystal clear, if that makes any sense at all. I saw him run back over near the pinata as his sister started swinging. I saw Rooster wind up and swing as hard as possible as her energetic six-year-old self could manage. I saw Pig Jr. right next to her as she swung that bat. Then, miraculously, Pig Jr. scampered away unscathed while I tried to calm my panicking self down. I thought for sure she was going to kill her brother with that bat. I have no idea how she managed to miss him, because from my perspective the bat should have made direct contact with his cranium.
It took a while for that pinata to crack open, so all of the kidlets present had multiple attempts at hitting it with the bat. I felt like I was watching my kidlets like a hawk to make sure they did not have the opportunity to split open their siblings' heads. It was actually Rooster who gave the final thwack that dumped candy into the room, and I was incredibly relieved to realize that meant the baseball bat's role in life for the day had been fulfilled.
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