So you think you've got a new idea, then...

Yesterday Madeleine went to a birthday party for the little guy that lives next door. He's a good friend of hers, and his mom is a good friend of mine. We had a busy weekend, and in place of regifting something crappy that Santa brought last year because he couldn't read Madeleine's Christmas letter very well, we did some last minute shopping for a gift, wrapping paper, tape and Clicky Black Shoes on the way to the party. There were no Clicky Blacks, which wasn't a heartbreaker, considering it was a gymnastics party and I doubt Clicky Blacks are especially helpful in the giant foam pit. But we did find some Lego thing and a racecar thing and all the rest. It was slightly stressful because we were late and I had to wrap the present in the front seat of the car. My wrapping job was so alarmingly shitty that I purposeful scrumped up the tape and wound torn paper around the batteries so it looked like Madeleine did it. I should be embarrassed by this, but it's not the first time it's happened.

Anyway, after the screaming - er, I mean the gymnastics part - was done, we migrated to the meat locker for the cake and presents. It was 34 degrees in the party enclosure. It's a joyous area, with a cement floor and 7-foot ceilings. Instead of blowing out the candles, the blue-lipped children huddled around them, nervously eyeing the dark corners of the room as if a skinned cow was going to come shooting out on meathooks. Pretty standard for winter parties in Montana. Ho-hum, can't feel my toes again.

So the best party of the party? The gift opening, of course. Not just because of the mob scene of kids pressing forward despite the Event Staff trying to keep them back with tasers and plastic forks. And not because of the cracked-out expression of the birthday boy as he shredded Madeleine's cute attempt at wrapping. It was IO's gift. Yes, I confirmed. Her name was IO. [Insert your own joke/shrug/confused frown here.] She gave him A ROCK!! No, you misunderstand - I'm not shocked or appalled. I'm completely and utterly fucking in awe! The birthday boy was not particularly interested, because the second gift was a noisy, clanging sword, which made me realize what a freaking chump I am. Every party, every year, last minute shopping, trying to be clever, trying to disguise shitty wrapping jobs, trying not be one of the tossed-aside-toys-in-lieu-of-a-noisy-sword people. From now on, it's all rocks, all the time. Maybe we'll mix in a stick or some pea-gravel on occasion, if we're feeling frisky, but from here on out it's gonna be earth. In fact, I bet the whole thing will catch on. Other parents will see the rocks and think, dammit! I'm such a freaking chump - I'm doing that next time! Maybe we'll even name our gifts - they can be like pets! Pet rocks! Brilliant! And then my mind goes EEEERRRRRRRRCH! Oh. Well, we're still doing the rock thing. But we'll call 'em iRock. Because I do.