Paint and Pixels

Stuff That Matters: Chapter ONE of THREE:

The Terrible, Tragic, Disastrous, Ice-cream Social

Summer was in full swing, and I deemed it was the perfect time to plan a joyous ice cream social. I had imagined all of my best friends coming together to enjoy the sweetness of ice cream in the park as well as the jovial fellowship that would follow. First, I sent out e-vites to 100 of my friends, coworkers and church members, to notify them that I would be hosting a get-together that would be accompanied by a few of the most tasty flavors of ice-cream. I was pleased when 75 of my friends RSVPed saying that they would be attending my party. The night before I went to the grocery store and picked out 10 large tubs of ice cream. I also knew I would need to provide eating utensils for the occasion, so I bought a package of 100 paper bowls and 100 plastics spoons, which was certainly enough for everyone, and a couple extra just incase there were other people at the park that wanted to join us.
When the day of the party arrived, I noticed that the sky was slightly overcast and there was a forecast of thunder showers. I observed the sky and was delighted when the rain cleared away and the sun emerged 15 minutes before my party was scheduled to begin. Sure enough, many of my friends showed up, eager to eat ice cream and have fun. I dished up the first comers at least two scoops each and was delighted to see how much they enjoyed the treat I had provided. At one point, I caught a glimpse of my friend Sue grabbing 3 spoons to put in her bowl.
“I can eat my ice cream faster this way!!!” she said as she stuffed two spoonfuls of ice-cream in her mouth at once.
Then I saw Sally, a lady I have always known to be extra thrifty, stuffing a whole handful of spoons in her purse. “You just never know when you will need an extra spoon! I am sure these will come in handy!”
Then I was caught off guard by the sound of laughter behind me. A little baby was getting quite a thrill out of putting a bowl on her head, letting it fall off, and then repeating the trick with another bowl. “Isn’t Bobby just the cutest baby?! What a precious little bowl trick! Do it again Bobby- I want to try to take a picture of it!!!”
And then Penny, my extra cheeky friend, began sticking spoons in her hair, “Don’t these make lovely hair decorations?! How awesome of me to think of this!”
“Oh I guess they do… I would have never thought of that.”, I said, but had began to notice that only half of the people that had said they would come had arrived.
By this time, the children on the playground had become a little rowdy and began throwing sand at each other. Debby, who has always been a very innovative mother, grabbed a handful of bowls and spoons and gave them to the children in the sandbox. They made great sand toys for the kids, and occupied them for quite some time. But after a while, the children again grew restless.
“Hey kids!! Come over here and sit at the picnic table! I have a craft for you to do!!” Called Diane, the crafty lady. I was amazed as I watched her direct the children in how to create a butterfly out of a bowl, three spoons, and some markers for decorating. The children loved the craft and afterwards they imaginatively held their butterflies above their heads and pranced in the grass to make their butterflies fly through the air.
Then I saw in the distance, a large group of people approaching the park. It was the Smithies! I had started to think that they would not make it, even though they had said they would come.
“We’re so sorry we’re late”, said Don Smithie. “We couldn’t leave the house until the rain stopped because our car broke down yesterday, and we didn’t want to walk in the rain.”
“No problem at all! There is still more than enough ice-cream left”, I said as I scooped up a nice big ball of chocolate ice cream. But, to my dismay, as I reached for the stack of bowls, I realized that they were all gone. And then I also noticed the empty box in which the plastic spoons were once in.
“Oh no!!” I gasped. Billy Smithie began to cry. He had been looking forward to ice cream ever since he was bribed into finishing his spinach soup at lunchtime.
Then some more of my friends also showed up, “Hi! We got caught it traffic, but better late than never, right?!”
“ummmm… yeah” I nervously stuttered.
The bowl and spoon dilemma became even more of a problem than I could have ever imagined. Some of the kids tried to eat ice cream out of their hands, but then their fingers got too cold, and they started to scream. Kids had ice cream dripping down their arms and on their shirts and they were trying to lick it off before more melted. The entire party became a huge dripping, sticky, bawling ice cream mess.
The tragedy was making quite a scene, as children cried, dropped their ice cream on the ground and parents tried to clean up. Still, some guests who had already eaten acted like they didn’t notice by looking the other way or by acting like they were too busy monitoring the children on the playground. But no one could have missed what was going on. Shelly said quite brazenly, “well, if you guys had just arrived on time, none of this would have happened, right?!” No one bothered to answer her question.

Debby, the mother who had made sand toys out of the bowls and spoons tried to act sympathetic, "Oh, it's just too bad, that there is not enough bowls and spoons for you all. It's a good thing I only need to worry about my own children, because they are already taken care of. It would probably be best if I went home now."
I was already in enough distress over the apparent failure of my party when one of my guests, whose name I wont mention, approached me and said, “You know, I just have to say, if you were really a good ice cream social host, you would not be allowing this to happen. I mean really, how could a good host, let perfectly good people like the Smithies, have ice cream all over their arms and legs and… just look at Billy! He’s got ice cream in his hair and dripping down his face! No wonder he is crying!” A couple of other guests nodded in agreement and then began to shake their heads at the hopeless and pathetic situation.
It will be a long time before I plan another ice-cream social. First, I will have to recover from the embarrassment of my first social’s failure. My relationship with the Smithies has gone sour due to their disappointment over the situation. Little Billy shivered all the way home as all his clothes were soaked in ice-cream, and then had to take a long bath before he was no longer terribly sticky.
I’m just not sure what I did wrong, or how I could have made sure that my party didn’t end up in a disaster.

*Not too many children were harmed during the making of this story. The ones who were harmed, were compensated with a lot of ice-cream.