A nuclear chain reaction occurs when subatomic particles collide in spectacular fashion, causing the particles to change (they become generally grumpy, irritable and complain a lot) followed by additional reactions that release incredible energy … and burn your face off.
The closest you should ever come to experiencing such an event is attending a 4-year-old boy’s birthday party. In this case, you will see a blast of white light, feel intense, overwhelming heat and find yourself balled up in a corner screaming, “Why, Lord, why?!?”
This will inevitably prompt a curious 4-year-old to wander over and ask in the sweetest, most consoling voice: “Do you like Transformers? Because I like Transformers!”
At this point, you will wish that your face HAD burned off.
My nephew, Striker, turned 4 this month, and this past weekend a birthday party was held in his honor. The party was originally planned for a local park where the kids could uproot trees, flip over picnic tables and generally lay waste to the land. But thanks to Hurricane Irma, all of that was already done and the park was closed.
So, my brother and sister-in-law decided to have the party at their house. In a confined space. Where all the little subatomic particles were sure to collide with one another. (All in Halloween costumes.)
Let the subatomic chain reaction commence!
As my wife and 11-year-old daughter arrived, I reminded them to keep their knees bent, to stay alert and to remember that dialing 911 is only possible if you still have all of your fingers.
I don’t want to sound sexist here, but 4-year-old parties for little girls are very different than 4-year-old parties for little boys. With girls, they are sweet affairs that involve lots of hugs, butterflies, sweet sounds of laughter, bows in hair and sunshine! You can have a cup of tea, or even leave them unattended for an hour or so. When you return, they will have come up with a viable solution for world peace that has been turned into a choreographed dance routine.
With boys, it is a lot like being duct-taped to a rocket booster. Or walking into the middle of an ongoing NASCAR race. There is screaming and lots of bodies flying around. You become terrified and nervous and experience the feeling of weightlessness. Usually when some little boy crashes into you and you fly up into the air.
Inevitably, at some point during the party, a parent screams out, “HEY, is that your kid in the oak tree across the street?!?”
The reply is always: “No, don’t be ridiculous … that’s yours! Mine is over here sticking his head in the oven.”
At the end, you go home to realize you have unidentified food all over your clothes, that your shoulder is dislocated, and that somehow one of the kids from the party ended up in your house. If you’re unlucky, there are two of them, and the chain reaction starts all over again.