Bruise Boxes

Oooh, this event has a bouncy house – YAY! I was just thinking how our family could do with a broken bone or maybe a concussion. And how a chipped tooth would fit nicely with this afternoon’s schedule. That there just aren’t enough stomach viruses passing through our home.

I’m ultra stoked to see that giant inflated meat grinder jutting up into the sky with an opening that somehow beckons to children…yet reminds their parents of the witch’s oven door in “Hansel & Gretel.” And then there’s that frustrated toddler mom desperately trying to video Kassidy through the netting and flying limbs of other, less worthy offspring while the more experienced parents wonder who in the fuck puts a two-year-old in a caged death match with freedom-crazed third graders. “Newb,” they think, even though they did it, too…ONCE.

A kid peed his pants in there this morning and now somebody just face-planted on the same spot – but it’s okay because the wake-n-bake carnie-in-charge wipes all surfaces very carefully every hour. And don’t worry about that 5-year-old with his fingers perpetually in his mouth who just grabbed your kid’s face with his saliva-slimed hands. His mom is suuuuuper positive the fact that he barfed after breakfast has nothing to do with the norovirus sweeping his kindergarten class. We haven’t taken a good, long ER trip with the kids in too long, Honey, but that’s about to change ’cause Carnie just let some teenagers in there, too!

The bouncy house – staple of the American birthday party, constant at community fairs everywhere. With its rubber-yet-hard-as-granite floor and blower fan noise more soothing than a blender full of pea gravel, it’s a rite of passage for youngsters everywhere. And their parents. Don’t let your kids be pussies. Teach them to face their nose fractures without fear!

Air-filled dipshittery comes in several forms...