Rats!

And what was I doing during Anna's perfect Sunday? That part in the middle where "Judybat took The Boy out of the house" and AnnaRay won the trifecta of staying at home, reading the paper and watching football was the part where I got to attend a 3-year-old's birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.

Call me crazy, but I was kind of looking forward to it, even though I was feeling grumpy from lack of sleep, having been the one to get up with The Boy and having spent the better part of the night being buffeted by the weirdest dreams EVER (must be a full moon.) The party was for one of The Boy's schoolmates, and I was looking forward to meeting some of the other kids in his class and their parents. Also, I was curious because I'd never been to Chuck E. Cheese before. Also, they serve pizza.

Everything I'd heard about the place made me fear the worst, but it wasn't that bad. Sure it was overstimulation central and every bit of food and drink, including the pizza crust, was laced with sugar. But it was clean and well organized and there were lots of fun games and rides for the little ones. It wasn't even that cheesy. There was only one animatronic rat, slowly pivoting back and forth while it blinked and waved from its pedastal in a shadowy corner, and the dude(tte) in the Chuck E. Cheese suit was fairy low key, moseying about the place and stopping only when called upon to give a hug or a pat or a wave.

Still, I must ask: Why would anybody have a birthday party for a 3-year-old there? Sure, I got to eat pizza, but there was no interaction with any of the other parents or kids. Even the Happy Birthday song was sung from a stage by four or five bored-looking teenage Cheese employees who gave shoutouts to the half-dozen or so birthday boys and girls, who may or may not have heard their names. The Boy was incabable of doing anything more than stare in mute wonder for the first hour, and just as he began to wake up from his wide-eyed trance (could it have been the cake kicking in?) it was time to go, so it was kind of a drag to get him in and a drag to get him out. Literally.

Of course, They Boy's birthday is coming up in a couple of months, and I don't have any bright ideas about what to do for him. We were able to let it slide the first two years, but he's onto us now. He knows he's entitled to ballons and presents and cake. In fact, sometimes he just starts singing "Happy Birthday To You" in hopes that cake will follow. The pressure is definately on.