“I may not be able to snag a woman and have children of my own, ” he lisps, “but I can destroy you with these little innocuous-seeming playthings.” (Followed by maniacal laughter.)
Admittedly, I run paranoid. But this time, I think I’m onto something.
Exhibit A: the pinata.
I know that pinatas have cultural significance of some sort, but that’s not why your average white suburban mom includes one at her darling daughter’s birthday party. No, she does it because it keeps her from having to actually facilitate a more labor-intensive activity. One where she’d have to do more than pass a stick around.
I just don’t think we’ve thought this pinata thing through.
Yes, they’re handy candy receptacles, but lawdy, the epic battles that erupt!
“Hey, she hit it twice!”
“He got more candy than me!”
“She’s gonna bust it before I even get a turn!”
“I ought to get two turns because there was some kickback when he hit it!”
“She’s stealing all the good candy!”
“He pushed me out of the way!!!!!”
Ugh. Pinatas bring out the Veruca Salt in every kid.
So I am hereby issuing a call for a pinata boycott! Or at the very least, I ask that you include a parental warning on your birthday invitations so the pinata-avoidant among us can skip the traumatic event. I’ll just go buy some candy and save my sanity, thanks.
I’m sure pinata policy is at the top of your list of parental concerns too. So what say you? Pinatas: yea or nay?
Danielle is an opinionated, suburban homeschooling mom with soul. She’s learned to approach life (and chin hairs) (and idiots) with humor. She calls it like she sees it and hopes she’s not the only one laughing at the end of the day.