Welcome to the Dark Side

I still remember being super excited when my mother made a chocolate fudge cake, shaped in a "S" for my 10th birthday. Maybe it was my 11th (okay, so maybe I don't recall all). Point being, that was the highlight of my preteen birthday bashes - not that the ones after got insanely wild.

This weekend, we catered a 8 year old's birthday. Maybe he was 9. Definitely not older than 10. The theme: Star Wars (for the sake of convenience, lets call the birthday boy "Darth"). From Star Wars paraphernalia in the "Goody-box" (bags are no longer cool/apt or big enough to store the stuff that was in there) to a boxing-ring-looking-thing for the kids to fight off frustrations with their light-sabers (also provided). There was a mini-maze for even mini-er people, a rope-climby-thing with hay at the bottom (cushion the fall) and your regular jumping castles and the works. All this, with the backdrop of (somewhat traumatizing) the Star Wars soundtrack, played very aptly by a DJ. Yes, Darth had a DJ.

Mama Darth hired a company (names not disclosed for interest of our future business ventures with them - we need the dough) to arrange the whole deal, probably paid them a bomb, and woke up, gleefully around 10 to go get her hair done in time for the party. No input (besides finances) were required or offered. As I helped set up and my partner slaved away in the kitchen, I went back to get the food and raved about how the whole set-up was going down and how the children that would attend would be compelled (or at least would harass their parents) to one-up this part-eh. Its another story entirely that my partner and our helper weren't amused by the grandeur of it all. Maybe I played it up a little too much.

As the kids rushed towards the food-area, passing the gift table, they showed off how "I gave that big prazaaant". One of the presents I remember receiving on my "S -cake" birthday was a beautifully painted wooden box, about the size of my palm. It stored three bath-balls. Jennifer said she didn't save enough of her allowance to buy anything more, but I loved it. This useless piece of nothingness, even when I was 10/11 meant so much to me, simply knowing that my friend put in the effort to go look for something and not show up empty handed on my birthday. I'm sure I would've forgotten had she given me nothing, but that she brought this, I still remember. There were probably other, more amusing presents gifted that day; somehow I don't remember them.

Darth got a huge box, which Ben (our helper) thought was a bunny or a cat or a puppy, but I'm sure it was simply an overpriced video game which Vader already owned and would now either be discarded or re-gifted (I'm hoping its the latter). I know we all claim to be above such shenanigans and how it was "different when we went there" (considering I went to the same school Darth goes to now) but it was different. A friend of mine celebrated her 16th at McDonalds for crying out loud (that was a little inappropriate, in retrospect). The point being, we didn't really care where we went, as long as we went together.

The personal touches of picking what candy goes in your goody-bag, sneaking a "taste" as you assemble them, putting up balloons on the gate for recognition and hand writing the invites for your friends. Its all lost. Invites are now custom printed by your party-planner and delivered. Goody-boxes are now packed in London (yes, that's where most the stuff came from) and shipped over. Balloons are now assembled in the shape of an arch, color coordinated to suit the theme and towering over your gate. Cookies are no longer baked at home but by someone who is able to make Darth Vader faces out of them. Pretty darn genius, but taste like junk. The party planners minions conduct the games, not your mother or father or some other elder remotely related to you. Party-hats are no longer cool.

I feel old and out of place.

Mama, can I please have another "S" cake for my 27th?