Thank Satan For Little Girls

I have been shot at.

I have SCUBA dived with sharks.

I was in a car, once, that burst into flame.

I was trapped in Los Angeles, in 1992, during the riots. Buildings were being burned down around me, small arms fire was going off, and the National Guard had to take up a position protecting the radio station that I was trapped in.

Nothing.....

NOTHING has caused me more stress than the slumber party that my daughter threw, at my house, Saturday night.

6 innocent LOOKING 9 year old girls descended upon my house, starting at 6 pm. They smiled, and kissed their parents goodbye. I thought to myself, This is going to be cute. This is a sweet group of girls. This was a good idea.
I could not have been MORE wrong.

When the last parent dropped off the last girl, and the door shut, I turned to face the little angels. But, the girls had vanished. They were replaced by 6 of the most horrible demons, from the darkest depths of Hell. Their innocent little eyes had been replaced by orbs of flame, which were now shooting directly into my skull. I went from wondering what fun games I was going to play with these precious little snowflakes, to wondering if I was going to live to see another day.

It all started off innocently enough. We had decided to feed the girls pizza. Harmless, right? Well, it should have been. A smart person would have used a coupon, and ordered pizza from one of the approximately 7,236 pizza places that are within a mile of my house.

Not me.

Nope.

We were going to MAKE pizza. We bought pizza dough, and grated cheese, and mushrooms, and sauce, and pepperoni, and olives, and onions. It was, dare I say, GENIUS!?!!! One would think. But, one also needs to have his head examined.

Me: Did everyone roll their dough?

Girl #1: Mine's not round.

Me: That's okay. It doesn't have to be round.

Girl #1: HERS is round.

Me: Oh...Uh...Okay. Let me see if I can get yours round.

Girl #2: I'm making mine square.

Girl #3: I'm making mine shaped like a heart.

Girl #4: I'm making mine like an "S," 'cuz that's what my name starts with.

Girl #5: I don't want a round one, anymore. Can I do mine over?

Me: Well, yeah. I guess so.

Girl #5: Good. I want mine shaped like a horse.

Me: A horse? Do you know how to do that?

Girl #5: I'm gonna let YOU do it.

Me: You're gonna let ME do it?

Girl #2: Will you make my square one, too?

Girl #3: And my heart one?

Girl #4: And make my "S," too.

Girl #1: I don't want a round one, anymore. I want a kitty.

Me: Uhhhhhhhhhh....................I'll..........Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.........I don't.........

Girl #6: I don't like pizza.

Me: Uh...Okay. Do you want a grilled cheese?

Girl #6: Yes, please.

Me: Okay. That'll be easy.

Girl #6: Shaped like a puppy.

Me: Shaped like a puppy?

Girl #6: Yes, please.

Me: I don't.........uhhhhh.......

Then, they all ran downstairs to scream, in unison. Apparently, they were on some sort of VERY tight schedule, and if they didn't get downstairs and scream, NOW, it was going to throw the entire evening off. So, they got to their screaming, while I attempted to turn common, everyday, household food items into a bizarre menagerie of animals and geometric shapes, that were to be eaten.....Though only halfway. Something in the 9 year old DNA does not allow them to finish their entire meal. They can, however, eat endless amounts of junk food. Amounts that would cause me, a 39 year old man, to puke.

And speaking of junk food, I would like to insist that ALL parents make sure that their children know whether or not they are allergic to peanuts, and thusly inform the moronic parents who decided to have a slumber party. You see, we made a variety of different cookies for the girls to snack on. One of the types was peanut butter cookies. For those of you who don't know, one of the main ingredients in peanut butter cookies is............Get Ready..........PEANUT BUTTER. Wait, it gets better.......One of the main ingredients of peanut butter is...........Anybody?.............PEANUTS. So, someone who is allergic to peanuts, would be allergic to peanut butter.

Girl: Mr. Bartholomew?

Me: Yes.

Girl: I ate a peanut butter cookie.

Me: That's okay. You can eat anything you want.

Girl: Well, there might be a problem.

Me: What's that?

Girl: Well, I MIGHT be allergic to peanuts.

Me: Well, that's okay........Wait.........What?

Girl: I might be allergic to peanuts.

Me: Uhhhhhhhhh..........

Girl: Yeah.

Me: Uhhhhhhh....Are you feeling okay?

Girl: I don't know.

Me: Uhhhhhhhh....Okay.....I can deal with this......Do you have any medication with you?

Girl: No.

Me: YOU LEFT YOUR MEDICATION AT HOME!?!!!.....Uhhhh....Okay....I'm gonna call your parents.

Girl: I don't wanna call my parents.

Me: Sweetie, we have to get your medication.....Don't touch any more cookies, okay?

Girl: I don't have any medication.

Me: I know. I'm going to call your mommy, and have her bring it. Just stay away from the cookies.

Girl: My mommy doesn't have it.

Me: Well.......WHO DOES!?!!

Girl: I don't take any medication.

Me: Well......uhhhhh......I thought you were allergic to peanuts?

Girl: Well, I THINK I might be.

Me: You think.

Girl: I saw it on TV.

Me: You saw it on TV.

Girl: Yes.

Me: But, you're not allergic.

Girl: No. But, I could be.

Me (closing my eyes): Okay.

Girl: Can I have another cookie?

Me (rubbing my temples): Yes. Just....take the bag down into the basement.

Girl: Thank you.

Me: Uh-huh.

I was also expecting these 9 year old girls to want to play some games. I'm thinking things like "Pin The Tail On The Donkey," or "Twister," or "Hide and Seek." That's the kind of stuff I did when I was 9. Of course, I also fashioned a parachute out of a bed sheet, and jumped off the roof. But, that's me. PLUS, I was a boy. Boys are dumb, and we do dumb things like jumping off the roof. I fully expect to find my son's injured body, splayed out on my front lawn, after HE makes HIS bed sheet parachute. He is, after all, MY son.

Truth be told, after the NEXT thing they did, I would have happily provided them all with sheets to jump off the roof with.

I'm not 100% certain how it all started. There was talk of boys. A LOT of talk about boys. Boys that were cute. Boys that they liked. Boys that they didn't LIKE, but that they would kiss anyway ( I know.....That last one kinda threw me, too.)

Then, there was whispering. When a group of boys gets together, and whispers, we are usually plotting some form of violence against ourselves, or others. But, boys are stupid, and they always, ALWAYS give themselves away. Again, I would have preferred violence to what came next.

They whispered.

They giggled.

They ALL looked over at me.

Then, they giggled some more, and headed back down to the basement.

So, after a while, I went down to see what they were doing. Clearly they were up to SOMETHING. As a responsible parent, it was my job to find out what it was. And, also as a responsible parent, it was my job to make sure that it, whatever "it" was, was stopped. As far as I knew, the fate of the free world depended on it.

I went downstairs, and found the girls happily drawing pictures of faces. No problem, right? Art. Girls like art. Girls are crafty. They like to do such things. NOW this was going the way that I imagined it would. We'd had pizza, and the girls were happily drawing pictures in the basement. Does it get better than that? I think not. So, I went back upstairs to watch "The Gilmore Girls." (Yes, I like "The Gilmore Girls." I like Lauren Graham. Deal with it.)

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet like they have in the movies, before the Evil Mutated Death Shark swims up, grabs you by the legs, and pulls you into the murky depths of the ocean, to eat you.

WHAT THEY HELL WERE THESE GIRLS UP TO!!?!!!!

So, I snuck downstairs.....Yes....SNUCK......SNEAKED?.....Either way. I quietly went downstairs.

When I got to the door, I heard giggling. Squealing, even.

Stealthly, I made my way down the stairs.

The squealing conintued.

Then, I made my way around the corner, to the horrible sight.

The girls had attatched the various faces they had drawn onto pillows, stuffed animals, AND a punching bag...........And, they were kissing them.......KISSING THEM!!!!!!!

"Uhhhhhhh.............STOP THAT!!!" I said.

They squealed.

The laughed.

They all ran upstairs.

Leaving me to stare at the crayon induced, make-out partners that were now scattered around my basement.

At this point, it was close to midnight. I had been trying to watch "The Gilmore Girls" for 3 hours (again, deal with it), and I was getting annoyed.

The girls were busy trying to play "Rock Band" on our Wii. So, as you can imagine, it was very peaceful in my house. A few moments later, they all filed into the living room, and wanted to watch TV. I made them all put their pajamas on, and spread their sleeping bags out on the floor.

I was beaten.

They had won.

"The Gilmore Girls" would not be completed, this evening.

I told them that the only rule was that they were not to set foot outside the house. They first one who set foot outside the house, I was going to kill. They screamed, and laughed. This turned out to be a mistake, because for the next two hours they took turns opening the front door, slamming it, and then squealing their way back into the living room while I was TRYING to sleep, upstairs.

The last noise I heard was at about 3am, and I drifted off to a none-too-peaceful sleep.

At 7am I woke up, and found the girls awake, and whispering. I was afraid to sit down, because I was worried that there would be slobber all over my couch cushions due to some impromptu make-out session, with more cartoon faces. YUCK!!

Me: We're going to make pancakes, this morning.

Girl #1: I want chocolate chip.

Me: Chocolate chip? I don't think we have any chocolate.....

Girl #2: I want blueberry,

Me: Uhhhhhhh.....blue......

Girl #3: I want strawberry.

Me: Guys, can we just decide on one.....

Girl #4: Can you put apples on mine?

Me (closing eyes): You know, guys, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and I was wondering....

Girl #5: Do you have whipped cream?

Me: (sigh)....I don't think so.

Girl #6: Mr. Bartholomew?

Me: Yes.

Girl #6: I have a problem with pancakes.

Me: You have a problem with pancakes.

Girl #6: Yes.

Me: Okay.

Girl #3: Can you make them into shapes, again?

Me: Uhhhhhhhh.......DONUTS!!!!! WHO WANTS DONUTS!?!!

Girls (in unison): YEAH!!!!!

Me: Okay. I'll go get a dozen donuts. I'll be back......Maybe.

So, I went to the donut shop, and was going to buy a dozen donuts. I realized, of course, that if I only bought a dozen, someone was going to be sad/feel left out/be allergic to/have a problem with whatever kind I bought.......So, I bought 2 dozen. That's right, 24 donuts to feed 6 little girls.

Good thing.

They ALL took 1 or 2 bites of 3-4 different donuts, and left the sad little donut corpses on my kitchen table. When they were done, there were no donuts left. But, there was NOT ONE SINGLE COMPLETELY EATEN DONUT OUT OF THE ENTIRE 24 THAT I BOUGHT!!!! NOT ONE!!!!

At 10am, not a moment too soon, their parents started showing up, and openly wondered why the girls looked booth exauhsted, and wired, at the same time.

I wanted to punch them ALL in the mouth.

It is THE LAST slumber party that will EVER take place, in my house. It is officially somebody else's turn.

I learned that 6 against 1 are odds too great for ANY man, even if the 6 are a bunch of 9 year old girls.

I learned that women not being able to make a decision starts at a very young age.

I learned that I need to be alone when I watch "The Gilmore Girls." Or, it's not going to happen.

And, I learned that several of the girls are VERY into Aiden and Garrett. Andrew, however, is "such an Andrew."

I don't know what that means, but I don't think it's good. Sorry, Andrew.

Casey