You know there must be a party going on if you’re chilling with a Lemonade Capri Sun in your hand.  Yep, that load of sugary juice tucked away inside a foil bag with a surfer dude on it, it was all mine yesterday.  I was going to opt for the boring kid’s-birthday-party-drink-norm of a Coke or Sprite, but then I saw the motherload — a cooler of Capri Suns. Packed in with layers of ice, all with their plastic-wrapped straw neatly attached.  I was sold.  I found my inner-child.

So it was, on Saturday I had five hours of a seven year old’s birthday party.  Given the beverage array, promises of an unlimited potato chip bowl and cake, plus the fact there were TWO — not one, but TWO — blow-up bounce houses, it was really a no-brainer as to why I was there.  Oh yeah, and it was my little brother-in-law’s birthday.

Of course, everyone had to ask the six-degrees question: “Sooooo, how do you know the birthday boy?”  And putting the story together was always fun.

“I’m married to J, and J’s father is the father of the birthday boy.”

“Oh, the birthday boy is my brother.” (Receive strange stare, as we all know a blonde-hair-fair-skinned child can’t have an Asian sister.) “Brother-in-law,” I clarify.

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