TwoBert deserves better than this.
This sweet little boy, this imp with the machine-gun laugh, this dancing machine whose latest passion is grooving to the Blues Brothers' "Rubber Biscuit," this affectionate little truck in Target sandals who sprints to the door to hug me when I arrive home and invariably head-butts me right in the grapes, turned two a couple of weeks ago. And we still haven't thrown him a party. To celebrate his two-ness.
You might wonder how I could neglect my child so, even to the point of giving more consideration to my own 500th monthday. You also might think it odd that a man starts thinking of his own age in months when his son turns two--the age at which most parents finally start referring to their kids' ages in years. The truth is, there are a few factors in play.
First, May is a shitty month to be born in because of all the watershed moments and milestones. If your birthday is in May, you might be all psyched for your party, greatly anticipating the chance to put on "Rubber Biscuit" and flail your arms like a teetering windmill, but your friends might have someplace else to go because it 's Mothers' Day. Or they might have the gall to respectfully decline in favor of some meaningless bullshit like a wedding, or a graduation, or a confirmation, or a baptism, or a bat mitzvah, or your grandmother getting paroled.
Second, it sucks to be a second child. Your brother had two parties for his second birthday, because that was before your parents burned out on all this Natal Nonsense. They didn't mind using a big venue and organizing activities and creating thematic goodie bags, because everything about parenthood was new and shiny, and every day was a gift of beaming, prideful wonderfulness.
We are so over that.
Those first two points are small potatoes, though, when you consider the basic truth that there is no need to throw a two-year-old a birthday party. When you're two years old, every day is your birthday. If for no other reason that when your arse needs wiping, you have someone to do that. TwoBert has plenty of toys and playtime and people celebrating his existence. How exactly does a birthday party build on that?
If you're a recovering birthday-partyholic and ready for a nice long rant about how out of control these dopey parties have become, you can read this piece in the June issue of Time Out New York Kids. If you click over to page 6, you'll find a little burp of invective from me about goodie bags, which I will never understand. Why exactly am I paying you to come to my event? Is this a kid's party or the freakin' People's Choice Awards?
We tried to give TwoBert a party last weekend, but too few of his friends were able to come. So we have a new date planned for next month. No gifts or folderol, just cupcakes and general mayhem in a local playground. And goodie bags full of rubber biscuits.
