Another kid’s birthday party deep out in the suburbs, replete with a ginormous house, in-ground pool, and spacious fenced-in yard. Another opportunity for me to imagine that Little Boy is wondering… why doesn’t our house look like this? Why are we cooped up in a second floor condo of a two-family house built in the 1920s? Why is our meager yard in the wide-open at the corner of a densely-residential street? Why do we have to make do with a garden hose when there are people in this world who have private pools?
So I was a bit surprised when we drove home — out of the boonies and back into Boston inner-ring reality — and he said, “Mama, when I turn 6 years old, I want to have my party at our home.”
I stifled hysterical giggles at the thought. “Hon, we can’t have a party at our house. It’s just too small!”
“But, if we have a party at our home, then I can have a pinata!”
Ah, the pinata from the party. It was Little Boy’s first. Because nowadays, most kids parties are at third-party locations, he’s never had the pleasure of whacking a pinata. And boy, what pleasure! What intensity! Apparently this pinata was particularly hardy, because none of the kids could even make a dent. A mother finally took the bat and beat the paper mache silly. It was the best thing I’ve seen all week. The candy poured out and Little Boy looked stunned — he wasn’t expecting that — before scrambling for his fair share of lollipops and Smarties.
He kept talking about having a party at our house so that we could have a pinata. That fact that our house is small, old, has very little usable yard space, and lacks any sort of party amenity didn’t seem to occur to him. Whew.
Oh yeah, there was hammock too. 5 year olds do everything in hammocks but relax!
