Return to Mayberry

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I read somewhere that August is the most common month for birthdays. Something about conceptions being up around the holidays. They speculate that it’s all that warm, holiday love in the air and all. I suspect a deeper scientific exploration would reveal that it really has more to do with women putting out more so they don’t end up with some lame small appliance under the tree. Get Google working on that and get back to me if it finds anything, will ya?


Summer isn’t even here yet and already birthday party season is in full swing. Apparently plenty of folks are getting themselves in the family way on the Fourth of July, too. I blame the sparklers. Or the sex.


According to the calendar, this was going to be a bad weekend at Chez Sliver: two parties for two five-year-olds in two days. Awesome. I love parties, really I do, but the kind I love involve girlfriends and alcohol and nice cheese. Not giant inflated Mr. Incredibles and greasy air brushed Kroger cakes. Hell yeah, I’m a party snob. Come to one party at my friend Karen’s house and you’ll totally get that.


But, strange as this is to even say, these birthday parties were actually pretty great. I had, well, I guess the right word is fun. Weird, right? I suppose the main reason I enjoyed the one on Saturday was because my husband took him and I didn’t have to go the people were so nice! I did make a cameo, which, by some crazy fluke, happened to coincide almost precisely with cake and going home time. But I can honestly say I was at the party, and it did not suck at all. See for yourself.






This is my five-year-old at the party. (Not the bald guy.) Do you recognize the venue? No, silly, that was a trick question. Of course you don’t. Because it’s a very exotic, secret locale, known only to truly radical, dangerous iconoclasts. Do you want a clue? Okay, it’s the park! I’m sorry, I’m not very good at secrety stuff, am I? But really, how awesome is that? Girl up and went all Mayberry on our asses. Even a homemade cake, MADE BY HER HUSBAND. These people are freaks!


You’re gonna think I’m making this up, but the party on Sunday was even better. (And I actually went to that one, so shut up.) The kids had a great time, but more importantly, so did I. And this slacker mom didn’t even go to the trouble of lugging the party to the park. She had it AT THEIR HOUSE! I couldn’t make this shit up, people. A birthday party for a child in the year 2009, in a house.


And it was awesome.


There’s really only one explanation:





Witchcraft.

I mean, for real. There was no pony; there was no clown; there wasn’t even a lousy SpongeBob. And everyone was so . . . happy. I guess when you take out all the shit, all you've got left to fill the void is fun. And, okay, maybe just a little vino for the grown-ups.

I’m pretty sure even Aunt Bee would approve.
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