When Max announced last fall that he wanted a war birthday party and that he wanted Michael and Matt – two high schoolers – I said great.  I honestly thought he would change his mind after 8 months OR that it would morph into something else.  Not that I MIND war games it was just, you know WAR with an 8 year old? And 15 year olds?  How would that work exactly?

The other problem was this: as the date got closer Max’s idea of what the party should look like and MY images for the party varied greatly. As in, when one of the moms called me to clarify that her son WOULD need an airsoft gun for the festivities and I assured her he would NOT at almost the same moment Jac and Max were taking stock of their weapons and ammunition stock.  Classic miscommunication.

Classic folly on my part to think I might be able to change his mind.  Or Jac’s.  To them, it was decided and so very simple.  An airsoft war?  It had been done before and we WERE going to do it again.

When the Hanson’s offered their home – and more importantly their yard – for the fete, it was sealed.  And so was my fate.

And so it was that over a month after his actual birthday, we celebrated Max turning eight with guns and war paint and a meal cooked over coals.

It was the best party to date.

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