Miss A's birthday party went off without a hitch until the last fifteen minutes. The girls had been playing in Miss A's room for awhile and it was now time for the Pinata. In all our years of Pinatas, we've always used the old fashion baseball bat to "hit it to death" and, normally without fail, we've had to call in reinforcements (older siblings, cousins, dad) to get it to finally fall and give up its candy.
This year, A's favorite Pinata was one with ribbons that you pull until the candy dumps. Perfect. No bats, and the girls would all get a chance to make the pinata open.
P decided that since the grass was little damp, and muggy we would not hang the Pinata from the swing set, but he'd just hold it from a broomstick. Great plan. You would think so.
It was going great; three girls including Miss A had pulled the string, and then the broom handle lost its "handle" and flew up and hit P in the lip. Within seconds there was blood everywhere. Seven little girls just stood in shock as the Pinata Guy went into the house with a busted lip. Thankfully, one of Miss A's friends' Mom had arrived early and was able to keep the party going while I nursed the patient.
It was obvious within a few minutes that Mr P was going to need stitches. As Miss M said, there was a lot of blood and no end in sight. Thankfully, our great neighbors agreed to take P to the doctor while I wrapped up the party.
To add to the comedy, I had sent P to the office where our primary doctor worked thinking there was an urgent care office there as well, but there wasn't. So on a Friday afternoon at nearly five o'clock, P walked into the our primary care physician's office with a bleeding lip, a story about a Pinata gone wrong, and walked out with two stitches and a tetanus shot.
I think P made a number of nurses, office staff, and a Doctors' weekend. He gave them a real story to tell and found Monday when he called for the follow up appointment that they all had. Of course, they were sure to point out to him that they did not use his name. HIPPA violation you know. By the time the girls and I arrived at the office, the receptionist asked if I was Mr. Pinata's wife!!
Poor guy he looked like he'd been in a big fight. No one knew it was Pinata that put up the fight. I'm starting to think that there is a connection between Miss A, Candy, and the ER. I think that next year we are just going to throw the candy out on the lawn and let the kids run for it!