Miss Wiggles is six

Reports from the outer edge of sanity.



We entered the kid's play house for Wiggles' birthday party and I hadn't walked ten feet in the place when I could already feel the noise of at least two hundred other sugared up rugrats echoing off the walls then reaching down into the core of my tiny brain and ripping my synapses to shreds. The place where we were at is a steel building in which small versions of a Ferris wheel, merry-go-round, and twirl-a-whirl in which only small children can ride were mounted, securely I hoped, all through the building. Along with that were several of those huge inflatable jumping pits and slides that have once again confirmed my belief in God since I saw several rugrats, not attending Wiggles party, bounce up and out onto the concrete floor without being hurt. One kid climbed to the top of the inflatable slide, gave the best Tarzan yell since Johnny Weissmuller then jumped straight to the bouncy landing area of the slide, bounced up again and landed on top of the inflatable ball pit next to the slide. This kid then slid back down to the concrete floor laughing his butt off screaming he would do it again. Just a few minutes later I got peed on by one of the pet monkeys the owners kept in a large cage when I told Wiggles it was time for her head to the room where her cake and presents were located. The monkey appeared to take offense at me taking Wiggles who was feeding it popcorn. Then again the monkey cage was right across from the inflatable ball pit and slide and if I had to put up with such noise on a daily basis I would pee on whomever made the mistake to come close enough to me.

Now throw in FREE cotton candy, which the kids snatched up and ran off with as soon as one was spun up and the entire scene could have devolved into a tiny version of "Lord of the Flies" if by chance the cake and ice cream had not been there. It was clear to me that no matter how cute and innocent these five, six, and seven year olds acted, down below were savage beasts looking only for a sugar fix.

My daughter, once she was hogtied to her seat, clearly enjoyed being in the spotlight and relished the attention to the point she could have rivaled Brittany Spears with her antics. Prayers for my sanity and soul will be greatly appreciated as she gets older by the way. But Wiggles surrounded herself with her inner clique and her and the three others of the Ya-ya sisterhood openly talked about which of the several boys attending her party they wanted to kiss. The boys in turn looked confused and worried that the girls might try and actually chase them down, they think cooties is a real disease. I briefly considered warning them that it wasn't until you were married a few years that you had to worry about cooties and how it took the form of your wife denying most aspects of fun with you holding their purse as she shops. But I held back, I saw no need to crush their young minds with nasty details they won't have to worry about for years.

The party finally did end at some point. But not until the swarm of rugrats went running off again to the various kid sized attraction dripping melted ice cream and smears of cake icing. As Darth Spoilboy, Dragonwife's parents Mr. and Mrs. Sunshine, and myself loaded up the loot I noticed a new set of parents bringing their children into the place holding boxes for another party. They noticed my dazed look and asked if everything went okay since the kid's play house had been open for only a couple of weeks. All I could say was that they should abandon all hope once they enter this place. Later that night as I recovered drinking my first of many beers to flush away my shredded synapses I concluded that if such kid's play houses were the norm for birthday parties for the children of affluence in America that in itself may be the reason there are so many families with only one child. I simply could not see myself doing that again on purpose. Although, Dragonwife and I had done the same thing for our son, Darth Spoilboy, at Chucky Cheese for his fourth birthday and promised ourselves never to darken that doorway again, a promise we have actually kept. Next year Wiggles better only expect a quiet game of pin the tail on the donkey.