Navigating Excessive Birthday Parties

Xtreme Grandparents Give Secrets on How to Deal With Overdone Kid's Parties.

by Rubin Carson and Marilynn Record

I'm used to the idea of Bar and Bat Mitzvahs resembling half time at the Super Bowl, but a 2-year-old's birthday party?

Let's cut quickly to the recent birthday bash of 2-year-old Joseph. I'm one of his many surrogate grandfathers since the real one lives back East. Surrogate-shmuragate, Joseph is the apple of my eye. Make that two apples. I had to fight my way through a crush of adults around the bar-buffet to get a peek at the birthday boy. Joseph and a horde of pre-school peers were watching a six-foot apparition from "Friday the Thirteenth" prancing up and down. The clown was scaring the kids, as well as me. Didn't party planners know that clown-phobia is a registered disease that can last a lifetime?

The Punch and Judy theater was wheeled in by more alleged clowns. Some hack had re-written the plot so dialogue was minimal. Puppets didn't introduce themselves and nobody knew who was who. Even the obligatory tribute to birthday boy was deleted. Without further ado, Punch and Judy started zapping each other until a third puppet dressed as a cop slipped cuffs on them. A fourth cop read them their rights and dragged them off to jail. Worthy of "Law and Order" rather than Sesame Street.

Pinata time! A humungous paper mache burro descended from the ceiling and kids took turns at bat. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Not a smidgen dropped off. Nada. Even when the clowns lifted the kids up for a closer swing. Finally, a father grabbed the bat from his sobbing child and hacked the pinata to shreds. Zillions of M&Ms burst from torn packages spreading under every chair and table. More shrieking and sobbing as kids fought each other to get at them. Parent's hysterical commands added to the noise level. "I can't hear myself think," Marilynn shouted. "They should provide ear plugs like at Bar Mitzvahs". "Don't worry", I shouted back. "They'll have them next year for the rock band party."

We were sitting in the geriatric section when Joseph finally saw us. He ran up and jumped on my lap. Then he jumped over to Marilynn's lap. We traded him back and forth until a clown announced that birthday cake was arriving. We reluctantly gave him up, but in our heart of hearts we knew he could live without the cake. Joseph would look back years later and realize grandparent's laps are more fun than a packaged, by-the-numbers birthday bash that costs a fortune.

Especially when it features a pinata made of lead.