So you want to throw your sweet and precious child the perfect birthday party.
Note: I write sweet and precious because I’ve discovered if you refer to a person’s child as a dull-witted potato-faced brat, they tend to find offense–people are so sensitive.
Because this blog is nothing if not helpful, (I laughed a little bit there too) I’ve decided to publish a brief list of things not to do for a child’s birthday party.
Don’t hire a clown.
Clowns are evil and they prey on small children–most people don’t realize the movie It is a documentary.
Don’t hire a mime.
Mimes will never break character regardless of how badly you need to speak to them. Whether it’s about something regarding your child’s birthday party, whom to write the check to, or if they would please stop miming inappropriate things about your wife–they won’t break character. And when they start to do that fake crying thing after you’ve become frustrated, you are forced (by law if my ballot initiative passes) to punch them in the gut.
Amazingly, they become all Chatty Cathy once the police arrive.
Don’t hire a guy in a SpongeBob SquarePants costume.
While SpongeBob is a beloved cartoon character, a guy in a SpongeBob costume is a six foot yellow crazy-faced monster that makes small children scream and pee their pants. And when it turns out the guy in the costume has warrants out for his arrest and steals, that’s just an added bonus.
Don’t invite that brat cousin.
We all have that one brat cousin with the overbearing mother (some of us have several) who just ruin everything. She yells, she throws tantrums, and she thinks everything is about her–and that’s the mother. The child is a torrent of shrill screaming misery: wrenching gifts away from her cousin as she screams mine with a voice that shatters glass, eardrums, and occasionally a human soul. She demands more cake even though her first two pieces of cake are spread over the drapes, the dog, the cat, and the inside of your couch cushions. She’s the reason your grandfather is always “losing” his hearing aide.
Also, she has a potato-face.
Don’t do the trick candles.
Don’t tell your child she can open her gifts after she’s blown out the candles on her birthday cake and then use those delightful trick candles that you can’t blow out–unless you want birthday cake smashed all over the wall. (Perhaps it’s time to concede the overbearing mother with the brat child is you.)
When your charming and intelligent nephew (often referred to as brilliant by friends, acquaintances, and people who have seen him at a distance) suggests you hire a monkey in a cowboy hat, listen to him. Who doesn’t love a monkey in a cowboy hat? If you’re lucky it’ll throw a fistful of feces at that overbearing mother and her brat child. (Again, that might be you.)
Your child’s birthday party is still gong to be a disaster, there’s only so much I can do…your child is a brat.
You are welcome.
“I’ve got a fistful of feces with your name on it.”