My family went to church with the family of one of my best friends from college. My friend Hugh has a son, Ethan, that is the same age as my son James. When Ethan was about 6 years old, he invited James to his birthday party. The party had a dinosaur theme because Ethan was fascinated with them. They had invited about 10 boys to the party. Ethan was the only kid that James knew at the party other than Ethan’s little brother, Eric. I stayed at the party to hang out, help out, and to make sure James was OK since he was a shy young man.
The high point of the party for me was the dinosaur piñata. This was the standard issue piñata that was to be opened by hitting it with a stick. Hugh had hung this piñata from the ceiling of their carport. They had a heavy-duty broomstick for the kids to hit the piñata. It soon became apparent that this piñata was also heavy-duty and that 6-year-old boys were not going to be able to bust it open. Every one of the kids tried at least twice before Hugh took over the broom handle. They moved the piñata to the floor and Hugh started beating on it with swings that looked like Jack Nicholson swinging the axe in the The Shining. Hugh was always a quiet, gentle guy so it was odd to see him wailing on the dinosaur with an aggression I have never seen in him. Most of the boys moved to the back yard to play more games while their friend’s dad beat a dinosaur. The only kid who was still around was Eric, who seemed traumatized to watch his dad assaulting what I could only assume he thought was Barney.
Hugh was finally able to get the piñata broken but there was no shower of small toys and candy raining down on the excited children. The worn-down boys would pick though the shreds of piñata paper to gather the trinkets that hadn’t been damaged by the impact of the broom handle.