It's My Party (and I can Kiss if I want to)


Rhiannon had her official fifth birthday party yesterday, the kind where there are fifteen thousand children, awkward parents, shrieking, pizza, cake, and Hannah Montana. But you know, it was fun and fine. Rhiannon's best friend in kindergarten, Rylee, has parents who own a toy store and party place in Phoenix called Toy Town. Outside of having parents who are archaeologists (Rhiannon), having parents who own a toy store has got to be the coolest thing ever. Or if you have an "uncle" with a California residence called the Neverland Ranch. Or not.

Anyhoo, we were the first to arrive, bringing a ginormous Hannah Montana birthday cake complete with her face in the upper-right corner, a plastic guitar-cum-lip-gloss-container in the lower-left, and "Happy Birthday, Rhiannon" in neon blue frosting atop day-glo orange and pink frosting. No birthday cake in the history of birthdays (or cakes) ever looked so unnatural. Our hostess, Rylee's mom, set up platters of crackers and cheese and of fruit and vegetables, and later three pizzas from the Domino's conveniently located next door. But most of the food went overlooked by the children in favor of all that there was to do.

Toy Town has a play area of miniature houses and shops that are just big enough for children under six to play in. They are stuffed with costumes and play-cars and pretend mail, and play food, and all kinds of shoes and hats and exotic gowns fit for princesses, of which all of the girls were, mostly thanks to Disney and Barbie and other creators of plastic fun (excluding Ann Summers...).

Anyhoo, there were two boys who came to the party as well. You, dear reader, have already read of one Jaden who is the one who was shirtless and kissed by Rhiannon in the school washroom last month. But sadly, poor Jaden was initially overlooked in the presence of the boy's boy, Hunter. Hunter spent most of his time playing the part of Paul McCartney in A Hard Days Night, running from hordes of girls. Rhiannon, of course, led the charge, and the chant of "we love Hun-ter" and "let's get him, girls" followed by shrieks of adoration. Poor Hunter tried to escape the mob by bouncing into the bouncy castle and then showing off his 1337, Chuck Norris kung fu style, but it was no use. Love conquers all, even imitation Chuck Norris.

Later in the afternoon, after the girls had finally had enough of hunt-the-Hunter, everyone sat down for cake. After every couple of bites, Rhiannon would excuse herself and go change in the dress-up store, returning in any variety of floor-length gowns. And when she was not changing, she was kissing. Her friends, eager to see a show, would shout, "kiss Jaden, kiss Jaden!", and Rhiannon would eagerly oblige. And Jaden would giggle and accept. And Hunter, at five himself, seemed visibly relieved. I have a feeling that twenty years from now, Hunter will actually want to be chased by a bevy of beauties, trapped in a castle. But that borders on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Which is not necessarily a bad thing.

So Rhiannon's party consisted of pizza, frolicking, frosting, presents, lots of clothes, and lots of bouncing. Oh, and smooches, which, at age five, seems completely natural and cute. But I fret a little for ten years from now. Oh. I fret a lot.

Rhiannon. Kissably cute.

Andrew (Papa)