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| Jerry. With Mom. Oh . . . and me. |
Jerry is my big brother.
He’s cool
He’s neat.
And he never could be considered a ‘party animal’.
An explanation is in order . . .
One of the best times to host a party is on New Year’s Eve.
Everyone is excited.
Everyone is happy.
And , more importantly, everyone wants to party.
Jerry decided to host his first, ever, New Year’s Eve celebration.
Invitations were extended.
Preparations were made.
And Mom cleaned the house for two days straight.
They were ready . . .
The party started out well.
Forty or so kids, all intent of having a great time.
There was a group in the ping-pong room.
Cheering or competing.
Another group around the pool table.
Ditto.
There were kids dancing in the front room.
Kids playing games wherever there was a space.
Kids circling the snacks table.
And kids visiting with my Mom in the kitchen.
The house was full and the party was, for lack of a better term, ‘hitting on all cylinders’.
The time came for the big build-up to the New Year.
Noisemakers were handed out. Because forty-plus people couldn’t make enough noise on their own.
The countdown.
The cheer.
Or rather, din.
And the New Year was official.
Everybody completed the ritual hugging and kissing.
And went back to what they had been doing.
Well, almost everyone.
Several young ladies were looking for someone specific to ‘congratulate’.
My brother, Jerry.
They searched throughout the house. Staked out the bathrooms until the current occupant emerged. And finally enlisted the help of my Mom.
She did a circuit of the obvious places. Then decided to see if Jerry was, for some reason, in his room.
She knocked.
No answer.
She cracked the door and peeked into the darkened room. Reached in and flipped the light switch.
A sleepy head lifted from the pillow.
“Whazzup?”
He had visited and played games.
He had congratulated and cheered.
He had gotten tired.
He had gone to bed.
Never mind that he was leaving his guests to wind down and find their own way to the door.
Nope.
Bed was the place for him.
My brother, Jerry.
Party host extraordinaire.
“Hope you had a good time! Don’t forget to put out the lights when you leave!”
He was certainly his own man!
ReplyDeleteYeah. Let's just say he never succumbed to peer pressure . . .
DeleteAwesome. My kinda host. You can eat all the food in the fridge and drink all the booze unsupervised...I've heard.
ReplyDeleteGo for it!
DeleteSounds like something I wish I had the nerve to do.
ReplyDeleteMe, too. I end up yawning on the couch and wishing I could somehow speed the parting guest . . .
DeleteWhat a great story! I could envision my husband doing the same thing...
ReplyDeleteI like your husband more and more . . .
DeleteThis sounds like something I would do!
ReplyDeleteAnd now I wish I was you!
DeleteThat is hilarious! Poor fella. I'm thinking he did the only sensible thing when he knew he'd be up doing farm stuff at the crack of dawn :)
ReplyDeleteYou have a point. Ugh. Crack of dawn . . .
DeleteI kind of did that once. Many years ago, friends of mine dropped around a few days before Christmas. We had a lovely evening but by 3 am I'd had it so I went to bed and left them to it. I had work in a few hours. I didn't hear them go but, bless them, they had cleaned up before leaving.
ReplyDeleteWell done, Robyn. Well done!
DeleteHA! Jerry, ya goof.
ReplyDeleteThen again, if he had chores in the morning, going to bed was the smart thing to do!
Pearl
Yeah. Somehow 'smart' and 'party' don't usually get cast in the same sentence.
DeleteYour mom probably wished she could have gone to bed as well! I've yawned my way through many evenings waiting for teenage guests of my kids to go home!
ReplyDelete