For the Children

Isn't there something so mournful about the way the wind sounds, blowing through the trees at the beginning of autumn? I don't know what it is, but it always has such a sad, sighing, forlorn quality. It doesn't sound like that in springtime. It's something like 85 degrees out today, but still, the wind has that distinct sound. It's beautiful, but it sounds like goodbye.

Or I'm just crazy.

I'm sitting here decompressing (I started to type "decomposing," which is a whole different thing) from spending three hours at a 6th birthday party for one of Anna's kindergarten classmates. Strictly speaking, I could be a lot more out of my element. I could be in a biker bar, for example. But a kids' birthday party in a house full of people I don't know is fairly high up on my list of fun things not to do. In this particular case, pretty much everyone else there knew each other, as I think most of the kids were cousins. But even worse than sitting around feeling awkward and out of place is knowing that the birthday boy's mom is feeling like a bad hostess because one of her guests is sitting around feeling awkward and out of place, so you feel guilty for making her feel guilty and before you know it, you're wishing you were in a nice noisy biker bar where at least nobody would be feeling awkward for you.

Things got better with the piñata, of course, because watching a bunch of 5-to-8-year-olds try to break open a piñata is a universal human experience. The first kids in line get blindfolded and spun around, and the birthday kid's dad (or suitable adult male stand-in) raises and lowers the piñata while the kid swings. As the line gets shorter and the adults' patience wears thin, the kids are allowed to peek and the adult holding the rope lets the kids get in a few good thwacks. Finally the adults have about had it and a free-for-all ensues, and the piñata is gruesomely battered limb from limb as everyone dashes in to grab some candy. The party is a success if nobody has to go to the emergency room with a concussion.

Once the piñata has been demolished, all the adult males retire to the living room to watch football while the birthday kid's mom serves cake, ice cream, presents, and more awkwardness. Is it too early to say thank you and leave? Or are you actually overstaying your welcome? Probably both.

Today's was a Star Wars-themed party, with a Darth Vader piñata and cake, a game of Pin-the-Light-Saber-on-the-Darth-Vader, and menu items like "Naboo nachos," "Sith salsa," "Yoda sodas" (the new all-natural 7Up; I spent several amusing minutes peering at the can and trying to figure out exactly what was natural about it), and "R2D2 dogs." Anna had a lovely time (which of course is why we put ourselves through all this), and I overheard her telling one of her friends, while eating, that for her sixth birthday she's going to have a Barbie party.

So I've got about eight and a half months to convince her that it would be more fun to celebrate in a nice noisy biker bar.