Just last week I told a friend how fortunate I'd been to have attended only two birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese these past 11 years. I jinxed myself.
The envelope was sitting in my son's cubby at preschool. Pleased that one of his classmates thought to invite him, I opened the envelope containing a one-two punch. A party. On Mother's Day. At Chuck E. Cheese.
Tinkerbell looked up at me from her glittery purple flower perch. "You wouldn't decline, would you?" Ugh. Fairies are supposed to make wishes come true not deliver guilt trips.
My son will be thrilled to go, I thought. Arcade games, pizza, cake and neon colored candy are a kid's dream. In a moment of insanity, or because I had recently read stories about kids birthday parties where no one showed up, I replied "yes." I got punked by Tinkerbell.
Chuck E. Cheese parties are as much fun as going to the dentist. They even offer the same cheap plastic toy prizes. While I can't stand the place, I conceded the mom was smart to host the party outside of her home. Who wants fossilized cheesestick nubs under their couch or to sweep up pulverized goldfish? That soda spill? The syrup will make the carpet fibers more durable because it's not your carpet. The noise? With any luck your ears will ring long enough to mute the sounds of the guaranteed overstimulation-and-too-much-sugar meltdown.
After 45 minutes of Skee-ball and basketball I was ready to go but the pizza and cake had yet to be served. Cursing myself for being punctual, I meandered over to the table where a couple parents sat. Conversation, which normally comes easily for me, was stilted because I was tired and irritated. They were lovely people, and meeting them was the best part of the afternoon. I wish I could have been fully present.
At last the program began. Our teenaged party hostess tried, but was unable, to look cool while leading a "Happy Birthday!" cheer competition between tables. We were then greeted by the life-sized mouse, waving, high-fiving and thumbs-upping his way around wary four year olds. Videos of saccharine preteen actors riffing guitars blinked on the screen behind him. Had Dante lived in the 21st century, this forced cheer would have been one of his seven levels of hell.
Two hours and cake later, we were sprung. I am glad that my son had a good time with his friends but I will never again sacrifice Mother's Day. And the next time the kids are invited to Chuck E. Cheese their father will have to take them because I'm now lactose intolerant.
The envelope was sitting in my son's cubby at preschool. Pleased that one of his classmates thought to invite him, I opened the envelope containing a one-two punch. A party. On Mother's Day. At Chuck E. Cheese.
Tinkerbell looked up at me from her glittery purple flower perch. "You wouldn't decline, would you?" Ugh. Fairies are supposed to make wishes come true not deliver guilt trips.
My son will be thrilled to go, I thought. Arcade games, pizza, cake and neon colored candy are a kid's dream. In a moment of insanity, or because I had recently read stories about kids birthday parties where no one showed up, I replied "yes." I got punked by Tinkerbell.
Chuck E. Cheese parties are as much fun as going to the dentist. They even offer the same cheap plastic toy prizes. While I can't stand the place, I conceded the mom was smart to host the party outside of her home. Who wants fossilized cheesestick nubs under their couch or to sweep up pulverized goldfish? That soda spill? The syrup will make the carpet fibers more durable because it's not your carpet. The noise? With any luck your ears will ring long enough to mute the sounds of the guaranteed overstimulation-and-too-much-sugar meltdown.
After 45 minutes of Skee-ball and basketball I was ready to go but the pizza and cake had yet to be served. Cursing myself for being punctual, I meandered over to the table where a couple parents sat. Conversation, which normally comes easily for me, was stilted because I was tired and irritated. They were lovely people, and meeting them was the best part of the afternoon. I wish I could have been fully present.
At last the program began. Our teenaged party hostess tried, but was unable, to look cool while leading a "Happy Birthday!" cheer competition between tables. We were then greeted by the life-sized mouse, waving, high-fiving and thumbs-upping his way around wary four year olds. Videos of saccharine preteen actors riffing guitars blinked on the screen behind him. Had Dante lived in the 21st century, this forced cheer would have been one of his seven levels of hell.
Two hours and cake later, we were sprung. I am glad that my son had a good time with his friends but I will never again sacrifice Mother's Day. And the next time the kids are invited to Chuck E. Cheese their father will have to take them because I'm now lactose intolerant.
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