Threw my first birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese this weekend. I survived.
Chuck E. Cheese is about the last place that I wanted to throw a birthday party, but I was stuck. There are only nine kids in Ian's class, and they range in age from six to ten. A tumbling party wasn't going to work for the ten year olds. I figured that all kids like video games and loud explosion sounds and greasy pizza.
I was worried. I had heard tales of sensory overloads and spectacular meltdowns. My brother told me that the last time he took his daughter to a party at Chuck E. Cheese, she climbed up one of the tubes to the ceiling and refused to come down. He had to climb up and drag out her out.
Luckily, we didn't have to fish out any kids from the tubes this time. We did have to deal with the scary robot chicken.
In the front of the eating area, they have large robot barn animals that sing along to music. Some poor sap dresses up as Chuck, and they all do a dance together. Well, one of the six foot robot animals, a singer-chicken, was freaking out all the special ed kids, because she was missing an eyeball. They looked at her with suspicion and fear.
Surprisingly, it wasn't a bad party. It was over in 90 minutes. They took care of everything — cups, plates, straws, goodie bags, pizza, drinks. It was probably the cheapest party I have had ever had for the kids. I don't think I would do it again. The place really smelled. But Chuck didn't suck either.
The rest of the weekend, I read Bobos in Paradise — is this book really just about shopping? I dealt with the winter-summer clothes swap. I googled swine flu – WebMD is a bad, bad thing for neurotic bloggers.
Closing in for the last week of classes…