. . . . on parties and pinatas
‘OF COURSE WE must have a piñata . . . maybe more than one.” I am discussing the finer details of the third birthday party for our daughters. Their father looks dubious about this proposed exotic addition to the festivities.
“Pinata? What’s wrong with pin the tail on the donkey?’” he asks, not yet convinced that a colourful paper yoke stuffed with sweets which is bashed by children with sticks until the sweets spill onto the floor is a good idea.
He reckons it’s geographically inappropriate for a start.
“We live in the north inner city not Mexico city,” he says delighted with himself. Mostly though he’s against the piñata idea because of the mess.
“You aren’t going to be cleaning up afterwards,” he says, a remark not entirely without foundation. I flick through my book and pretend not to hear.
The book is called Parties For Children: How to Give them, How to Survive Them. It was published in 1983 and says nothing about piñatas. But it’s inspiring nonetheless.
There are tips for all sorts of themed parties including my personal favourite the “crazy, upside-down, backwards party” with instructions like: “Place a paper tablecloth on the floor under the table. Everyone sits under the table to eat.” It also recommends serving “inside-out” sandwiches. I know, crazy right? I’m not mad about all the suggestions. There’s one game where they basically suggest you let the children have a parade through your house.
Their father, who has in the past been known to parade around Northern Ireland while wearing a sash to the sound of banging drums, was keener than me about suggestion number 5: “Give each child spoons to bang together or coffee-can drums to pat. March all around the house.” I much preferred suggestion number 4: “Have everyone lie down on the floor and get comfortable. See who can be quiet the longest.” Sounds like an excellent plan.
The book’s author reckons the games are crucial. “If you pick games that are too easy they won’t like them. If you pick games that are too hard they will cry. If you pick games that are unfamiliar and complicated you’ll end up yelling in a shrill voice and getting a headache”. A birthday party headache begins with a distinct pain at the temples, the book says, and is to be avoided at all costs.
A friend, who had a headache-inducing party recently for her two-year-old, also combined the shindig with drinks for adult friends. She has since been warning me to be crystal clear about whether the party is for the adults or children. “It can’t be for both, we found that out,” she said grimly adding for good measure, “It was hell”. Apparently people afterwards claimed to have mightily enjoyed the event but one party-goer recalled looking around the house at around 4pm and thinking the scene resembled one of those lesser coordinated flash mobs.
There’s still a few weeks to go but with my friend’s experience in mind I’m starting to feel the pressure. The children have been talking about the party since before Christmas which is ominous because the book clearly states that too much anticipation is Not A Good Thing. Everyday they go to their checklist with the efficiency of two people planning not a two-bit birthday gathering but the opening ceremony of London 2012. “Will there be sausages on sticks?” asks one. “Will there be party ice cream and jelly?” says the other. “Will there be party food and party games and party presents?” “Will there be a piñata?” they say in stereo to which we make non-committal noises and curse Dora The Explorer. Apparently these yokes are surprisingly easy to source and come in several non-donkey shapes from high heels to “Toy Story” characters. You just need to know where to look.
Planning someone else’s bash makes you nostalgic for your own although it’s far from piñatas we were reared. Some of my best childhood moments involved sitting in a circle for pass the parcel. These days apparently you have to have put a present under each wrapper. The idea that there is only one winner doesn’t go down well any more. This hardly prepares the children for real life or even your average sports day but more presents mean fewer tears. Tear-avoidance is the holy grail of the committed party planner, or so it says in my book.
Speaking of party-related tears my twin brothers were invited to a memorable birthday party once back in the 1970s. My mother got them all dressed up, bought and wrapped a present before sending them off to the house of let’s-call-him-Simon down the road. “Simon” took in the gift and then promptly closed the door in their little faces. It turned out there was no party just a cunning gift-getting wheeze on the young fella’s part. My brothers were distraught. I should point out that let’s-call-him-Simon’s name actually IS Simon. And if you’re reading Simon, my Mother wants that tractor back. Or hang on . . . look, give us a piñata and we’ll call it quits.
In other news ... “Cherry blossom in the air, cherry blossom on the street.” There’s no better place to celebrate John Spillane’s lovely lyric than at the Japanese Hanami (cherry blossom) Festival at Farmleigh in the Phoenix Park tomorrow. There will be free Japan-related activities and workshops from midday to 4pm.