I spent this weekend bringing my children to a four year old’s. a three years old’s and a two year old’s birthday parties, all serving pizza and ice cream.
Not only did my children have fun, but I enjoyed visiting with the parents as mayhem ensued. The first two parties were held at the homes of the children. The suburban parents had twenty kids and lots of family in attendance. The kids jumped in the pool, competed in sack races and destroyed the pinata. When the rain began, the adults quickly deflated a fancy water slide and moved the tables and chairs inside, and the regular couches aside. Throughout the entire party, the parents were relaxed and content. I found my New Yorker self going into speed mode distributing the pizza or the cupcakes but nobody else was as rushed as myself.
The following day the three year old’s mother confided that she was a bit overwhelmed with the eight children invading her house. She had over-ordered pizza and cake while the fruit plates looked untouched. After cake her husband excused himself to watch the world cup with a friend who did not attend the party. He justified it by dutifully taking photographs during the entertainment, a singer with furry props for the children.
That afternoon we ventured to Gymboree for a two year old’s party. The mother seemed happy as her family snapped enough photos to make a flip book for the party. she was initially hesitant to host the party at Gymboree because she has attended other birthday parties there, but her son was beyond happy. The pizza was room temperature and the kids sat in their chairs awaiting ice cream cake, interrupted by the running, jumping and sliding distractions in the play room.
The best part about each party was my children came home exhausted and fed.