2000-05-07 | 00:57:17

today i went to a four-year old's birthday party. i used to work with her mom--a very funny, sarcastic woman who hated barbie and everything she stood for. in a twist as ironic as the preppy son/hippie parents premise of "family ties," the little girl has developed an adoration of barbie. the birthday party was themed accordingly, although the mom seemed to get special relish from the pinata portion of the event. i believe her directive was: "whack that barbie!"

a singing keyboardist had been hired as the entertainment. she tapped out a fine selection of disney standards and then suggested a friendly game of musical chairs. ah yes, the well-loved classic. after some struggles with getting the kids to get the right number of chairs in the correct configuration (one less chair than there were kids) the fun...and drama...began. a little four-year-old girl was the first to be left chairless as the music died. realizing her predicament, she ran with staccato steps to her mother, bawling uncontrollably. the next victim was a curly, long-locked boy in a hawaiian shirt. he charged away from the unwelcoming circle of chairs, clutching his daddy as he sobbed.

my first thought was how simple their little lives were that this little trauma was so heartfelt. i wanted to say, "wait 'til you get a load of adulthood, kid! then you'll have something to cry about." my second response was, "this is a horrible game! how awful to be the focal point of failure. closed out from the tribe--a primal fear set to musical accompaniment."

i told the story to a friend tonight. her response was immediate and emotional: "ohmigod! i HATED that game. i remember the horror of being shut out. no wonder i'm such an anxious adult!"

no shit! and don't even get me started on dodge ball!

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