An Epic Battle

Ryan and Tom ganged up on me. They freaking kicked my ass, is what they did. And they giggled the whole damn time. And to think, the Epic Battle was my idea!


I bought thirty glow-sticks. I bought thirty glow-sticks and we chose teams, which ended up being me against everyone else in the house, and turned off all the lights, and we had an Epic battle. I suppose it could have been considered a small playful fight, but why do things halfway? If you're going to have a glow-stick war, have a glow-stick Epic Battle. Not enough people capitalize these days; it's sad. Also, too many people are afraid of breaking things and therefor don't want to lob glow-sticks at each other across a darkened room. But, life should be fun. I mean, isn't it every parent's goal to have our children's peers jealous of our kids? I don't wan to spoil her, but why not have fun at times?

I highly recommend the glow-stick Epic battle. It's an educational experience for a kid. Ryan learned vocabulary (a shoe-box is an armory) and strategy (throwing one stick short to lure me into the open). And she also earned that Mom and Dad can whip glowing hunks of hard plastic at each other and still be okay and happy afterward.

It was a fun night. But a word of advice to anyone planning an Epic Battle of their own: grab the lid to your biggest chili pot and use it to deflect potential blows to the head. And periodically check your hair for snagged weapons. Nothing gives away your location like a glowing beacon stuck in your pony-tail.