Wednesday, January 10, 2007

NoHo Parenting

I remember walking into a party in Hollywoodland. All the parents drove luxury cars and had designer jeans. There were three adults for every kid, and it wasn’t clear who was actually reproducing. The birthday twins had been adopted by two daddies, who apparently had a very removed approach to parenting. The kids were sweet as pumpkin pie when I came in as Spiderman. Sensing a peaceful crowd, I relented and popped into the moonbounce. Big mistake.

Somehow, standing on inflated ground drove these children mad. They exploded into unbridled violence, slamming into each other with terrifying force. One little tyke would make a loud grunting noise, lower his head, and plow into the nearest target at a dead run. I learned of this tactic when he collided with the nether regions, sending Spiderman into a painful Spidercrouch.

Parents swarmed to the side of the moonbounce, imploring their children to not be accomplices to homicide. It was like asking Prince not to be accomplice to weirdness. The kids were completely out of control. As soon as they stepped off the jumper, and into the waiting, hysterical hands of their parents, they would revert to cute little sweetums. And just as quickly, parental concern would evaporate, disappearing faster than the mimosas.