International Night is For Suckers (Of Which I Am One)

Oh, you guys, I just remembered that I totally forgot to tell you about International Night at my kids elementary school. We have been at that school for four years and had never been because it is one of those evening activities that seem like a nightmare for any kids, let alone MY three kids.

For weeks now, fliers have been coming home asking if we want to participate by bringing a food dish or set up a table celebrating our origins, but I was all, fuuuuuuuccckkk that, because in my head I was already plotting ways to get out of going.

(I did briefly consider bringing green jello with shredded carrots in it to signify that I grew up in Utah, but then I figured that only people who live in Utah would get the joke, so why bother.)

Anyway, Sam destroyed my avoidance policy by being all gung ho about going this year and showing me the poster he worked on about India, so last Friday evening I packed up the munchkins, took a deep breath, talked to my kids about FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STAY WITH THE GROUP! and we headed off for International Night.

The first thing we did was see Jack’s poster about South Africa, where they play golf.

Jack made the golf ball and the cartoon.

Then we wandered down the hall where we passed Quinn’s class project.

He says he did the top row of hand prints.

It was here that I lost my head for a minute and told Sam he could go hang out with his friends. We did not see him again for a long, long time. What we DID see was this:

Nobody told me that anything this crazy awesome happened at International Night. If I’d known about this, I would have shown up years ago. Especially after seeing these faces react to it:

Then one of the dragons tried to eat Quinn and it was all he could talk about.

This dragon.

Unfortunately, we then ran across a woman who was using wax, fire and dye to paint eggs and then THAT was all Quinn could talk about. Also unfortunately, the woman said, “Sure you can make one, little boy, but it will take an hour and a half,” which naturally led to a lot of, “But she saaaaiiiidddd!” and “I waaaaaant to make one!” and “Can I do it at hooooooome?”

Then he made this face, which sucked.

Sam was still missing at this point, but I had a theory that he was probably in the by-now dark school courtyard, which had pretty much turned into Thunderdome with balls being hurled about and children careening everywhere.

With my finely honed herding skills, I managed to extract all three children and we wandered to the other end of the school where we finally saw Sam’s poster.

He wrote the section on the right about curry.
My favorite sentence: “Indians are thought to eat curry.”

I could tell that we were nearly at the end of our ropes at this point and knew that we would soon have to flee from the building.

But not before some spinning in the gym.
Overwhelmed much? I almost joined them.

I’m not going to say that International Night was awesome, but dammit, we survived, and I managed to leave with the same number of children that I arrived with, which I always consider to be a victory.

Stimey, 1; Forces of Entropy, 0

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