I spent three hours last Tuesday staring at a spreadsheet in my Denver home office trying to figure out how many treat bags do I need for a unicorn party for my daughter Lily’s second birthday. Lily is obsessed with anything that has a horn and sparkles. My wife, Sarah, says I overthink these things,…
My kitchen smelled like singed hair and vanilla frosting last Saturday morning at 7:15 AM. Leo, my youngest, was turning four, and I was deep in the trenches of a Mario-themed meltdown. I had spent three weeks scouring every shop in suburban Portland for the perfect mario candles for kids because, according to a very…
Houston humidity does things to a classroom. On a Tuesday in late March, the air inside my third-grade room felt like a damp sponge. Twenty-four eight-year-olds were vibrating with that pre-recess energy that smells faintly of pencil shavings and dried fruit snacks. We were prepping for our “Neon Reading Glow-Up” party, a reward for hitting…
Houston humidity does terrible things to streamers, but it can’t dampen the spirit of 22 fourth-graders who have been promised a monkey-themed afternoon. I’ve spent twelve years in the classroom, which means I’ve survived roughly 72 class parties, three floods, and one memorable incident involving a loose hamster. Last March 12, 2024, I decided to…
I have survived twenty-two years teaching third grade in Houston. I intercept flying juice boxes with the reflexes of a ninja. I know exactly how much sugar it takes to tip a child from “happy” into “feral.” Last fall, my sister called me in a panic. Her daughter, Maya, was turning nine. Maya desperately wanted…
Hey party people! William Walker here, checking in from sunny Dallas, TX. My niece Luna (3) and nephew Arjun (6) are obsessed with all things farm right now, so naturally, we’re planning a big ol’ farm-themed birthday bash next month. I’ve got my spreadsheets all laid out – guest list, food, activities, you name it…
My daughter Maya turned five on June 14, 2024, and the humidity in Atlanta was already sitting at a thick ninety percent. I was standing in the middle of a craft store aisle, sweating through my t-shirt, staring at a wall of glittery cardstock like it was some kind of ancient prophecy I couldn’t decode….
Ten aggressive nine-year-olds standing in my Denver backyard on May 14, 2025, looked exactly like a pack of hungry wolves. My son, Leo, held a plastic bat with a grip so tight his knuckles turned white. We had exactly one cardboard donkey hanging from the old oak tree. I thought I was prepared. I had…
My kitchen table is currently buried under a mountain of yellow cardstock, three half-empty cups of cold Stumptown coffee, and a pile of half-eaten Cheerios because my four-year-old, Leo, decided that he absolutely must have a Pikachu-themed birthday or his life is basically over. Leo is four. He barely knows how to tie his shoes,…
My kitchen floor looked like a radioactive swamp on the afternoon of March 14th, 2025. Green frosting was everywhere, sticking to the floorboards and the cat’s whiskers, reminding me that hosting a twin birthday party in a small Chicago bungalow is a special kind of madness. Leo and Maya were turning seven. They didn’t want…
