A rash of children's parties
For all those parents lucky enough to have
had
Kids born when the weather is decent
They start in May, usually low key
With fairy bread and pass the parcel
In the park, under trees
The way kids parties used to be
By June, some mums, enthused
By the occasional night under 20 degrees
Up the ante
And let's face it: it is the mums.
Dads absent themselves from the process
altogether
Or in a nod to marital harmony,
Those fathers without the luxury
Of being able to turn sausages on a barbie
Might hang a streamer, tape up a balloon,
Stand around handing out fruit,
Beer in hand, hoping another dad will show
up
So they have someone sympathetic to talk
to -
For the parties are now themed:
There are Dinosaur Train parties,
Peppa Pig parties, Octonauts parties,
All thanks to the good people at the ABC,
Whom all parents turn to in times of need
And whose marketing strategies are just as
coercive
As those used by commercial TV.
By July, things have reached fever pitch,
With more outlandish cakes,
Bigger, more expensive presents,
More decorations and complicated games
Face painting, jumping castles, piñadas,
Ballons bigger than the toddlers
themselves,
Kids high on sugar whizzing like laser
guided missiles
Given goodie bags with even more
sweets to take home
So they can continue torturing their
parents
In a cruel, backhanded way to say: thanks
for coming.
In August, after the recycling bins are
stuffed
With wrapping paper and boxes and bunting
And all the broken plastic toys and food
scraps
Have been bagged and kids down from sugar
highs
Go back to leading normal lives
Memories of an event that took 4 weeks to
plan
And 4 days to clean up already fading,
There are the facebook photos to share,
So that mothers who held parties in May
Can look on and feel inadequate,
Grumbling under their breath, stifling
their fear
Knowing they will have to go even bigger
next year.
© shaun patrick green 2017
