For an early birthday, Judah's buddies from our complex stayed the night. They're an eclectic group of personalities, but they're solid. From the background I can hear them innocently talking about farts and video games and "what if the Bible was written in code" jokes that I never quite heard finished but can only assume it was a zinger.
These boys are just good boys. They even apologize when they've accidentally hurt someone or made a friend feel left out. They're the kind of kids a parent wants for their son.
I tried to find some activities that didn't involve any sort of screen, so they started off with an Around the World tournament. It didn't last long. At one point one of the boys asked me, "If we play a basketball game on our device, can that count?" I laughed, than cringed, than said "No." The boys were good sports about it all, but I could tell, Around the World isn't as attractive as it was when I was their age.
A rooftop dinner of grilled chicken, bowtie noodles, and corn on the cob (still boiling when this picture was taken). Between laughing and jumping on the trampoline, I'm not sure how much they ate, but no worries. In all my years of attending birthday parties, I've never remembered the food, only the people.
I borrowed a projector from school . . . nailed it!
We watched a documentary on Michael Jordan because this generation seems to know very little about true basketball greatness. I don't know if it sunk in or not because most of the time they couldn't get over his tongue sticking out. It was all I could do to stop the movie, look deep into each of their eyes and say, "This is important. That tongue is the sign of a genius hard at work and he demands your respect!" But then one of the boys farted and it totally ruined the mood.
When it was over I turned off the TV and, with my back turned to them, said, "Okay, if you brought a device you can take it out." When I turned around, it looked something like this. And I'm okay with that because, at the end of the day, I could look myself in the mirror and say, "You fought a good fight. You kept to your faith. Now go rest in peace."
But I couldn't. Because seven boys left in a living room are the very opposite of church mice.
At 11pm, I told them to turn off their devices and try and sleep.
At 12pm I told them to try and quiet down.
At 12:45 I told them to quiet down.
At 1pm I turned the fan on high and covered my head with a pillow.
In the morning, when I came out at 6:45 to make some coffee, the scene wasn't much different than the one above and I smiled and hoped their parents wouldn't be too upset with me.
The boys all left at 8:15am, and by 9, I found Judah like this:
I checked him around 10:30 and found him like this:
Then again at 11:45.
I think the boys had a good time.
Happy (early) birthday Judah, and thank you, Judah's friends, for being so kind, so eager to laugh, and so polite. You are all quality, quality, young men.
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