We celebrated my daughter's sixth birthday this weekend. We threw a party for little Daisy in Golden Gate Park and, ignoring the bipolar weather (It's foggy! No, it's hot! Argh, my butt-cheeks are frozen together!), it went pretty smoothly. Apparently all you have to do to make a kid's party go well is run around like crazy for several days beforehand. My wife cooked and baked all sort of yummy egg-free, dairy-free, nut-free treats for the guests. The guests didn't really require that menu, but my daughter did, and it seemed rude to serve foods at our daughter's birthday party that she was unable to eat.
My contribution to the birthday party planning was running to the supermarket 5-6 times in the 48 hours before the event. It's not a glamorous job, but it's one that I can't screw up too badly. Wifey makes the list and I buy items on the list. Ta dah! Lookit me shop like big boy!
I even know how to buy a ripe pineapple (now). Wife told me to step away from the pineapple display and go find a grocery employee and ask them to help me. Me big boy! Me hug pineapple! Ow!
The party itself went smoothly. About a dozen kids attended, mostly girls. I enjoyed hearing some of the girls discuss some of the boys who were attending:
Daisy: I can't wait until Jimmy gets here!
Girl X: Ewwww! Jimmy is gross!
Daisy: I like Jimmy.
Girl: No way. Jimmy is gross.
Ahhh, it brings me back. Seems like just yesterday that my wife told me I was gross.
I also got to hear another one of Daisy's instant songs. She was walking along, holding hands with her best friend, Kate, at the time.
Daisy: Want to sing a new song with me?
Daisy: Ok, it goes like this:
"Oh, we are a married couple,
Yes, we are a married couple..."
Kate: I don't want to sing that song.
Ok, so same-sex marriages aren't for everyone.
The party took place near a playground, so the kids mostly entertained themselves. We did, however, at Daisy's insistence, have a pinata. I hate the pinata tradition because some kids end up with tons of candy and other kids end up with scar tissue. I understand the need for survival-of-the-fittest activities in a child's development, but maybe John Scopes and Clarence Darrow aren't the best party planners.
Sure enough, Daisy and at least one other small boy were near tears because they sucked at gathering candy. Nearby parents hovered, ready to rectify the situation with a dose of candy communism. Soon, all the tiny mouths were filled with unhealthy sweets, a happy ending for kids fast and slow.
Happy birthday, babe.