:: Cyrus Broacha

B’day bullies

Cyrus Broacha

Oct.31 : I need air. Not just oxygen. I need all the other stuff that comes free with oxygen as well. I have just returned after executing the greatest production known to modern man. A task so huge, so monumental that only a few brave valiant ones even dare contemplate performing it. Forget about fighting in the trenches, drinking with Amy Winehouse, or urinating in public, this makes even those severely challenging ones pale in comparison. What am I speaking about?

Okay, if you insist, if all three of you are ready to face the truth... if you really feel you can handle the truth... Here goes: I just celebrated my son’s seventh birthday with a feat unparalleled in history, a birthday party. I’m sure you’re asking where did the courage come from? How did he have the guts? I give you four words, "I changed my medication".

The birthday party process is a complicated and painful one. First you need to figure out the guest list. This is done in one way and one way alone: Your wife decides who’s invited. There is no other plan of action possible. This part of the birthday party process is called Phase I. Next comes Phase II. Here a venue is decided. In choosing the venue all parties involved in the party preparation follow a time-honoured edict. What is this edict? Answer, your wife decides.

Now that Phase I and Phase II are duly completed, you enter Phase III, also known as Perspiration. In this longest phase, your wife tabulates the food, beverages, alcohol (this may or may not be served to the kids depending entirely on the hosts’ mental state at the time) and other assorted miscellaneous items that include previously undiscovered relatives and slaps you with a huge bill, hence, the perspiration. Obviously Phase III is followed by Phase IV. This is more commonly know by its original name, More Perspiration. Phase IV entails selecting the evening entertainment. This itself has undergone a long evolution over the years. In happier times (also known as Prehistoric Times), entertainment was provided by the Neanderthal father himself. On his kid’s birthday Ol’Neanders would bring out the wife, seat the children down, and then formally test his latest acquisition, usually a large wooden club, on his wife’s head. This was followed by eats and drinks, after which the kids would have a go at Ol’Neander’s wife’s head. Years later this evolved into an old unshaven uncle, standing in front of the kids, whilst the tots expressed their love by hurling snacks, paper glasses and small utensils at him. Unfortunately, all this has undergone a huge change now. Today’s entertainment is far more complex. There are three options:

A one-legged juggler who sweats more than he juggles

A puppet show which causes adult men to weep with boredom, or

Organised gymnastics of non-adult nature.

Phase IV was duly completed with us choosing the third option. Why? Because the wife decides. And what does she base her decision on? Whichever is the most expensive.

Now that brings us to Phase V. Also known as The Death Battle. This is the actual completion of the party. Kids arrive, play, have fun, break things, are fed and then sent off. Mothers spend all time socialising and smiling. Fathers spend time counting. Counting down to how much longer before it’s their turn.

The party rounds up on a simple premise. When the wife decides. This is Phase VI of the party process. Now the rest of the family rushes home with tired smiles on their faces, you, the father, stay in deep depression. Why? I’ll tell you why, because there is no escape from the vicious cycle. Your daughter’s birthday is next.

Finally, you wind up for the day and fall into your bed, alone. Phase VII. Why?... Er because your wife decides.