Anyone from the Midwest old enough to have grandchildren has a black-and-white photo, tucked away in a shoe box on the top shelf of a closest, of a dozen little kids wearing pointed party hats sitting on the front steps of what could be the American Gothic house.
The kids have just had an hour of fun in the backyard playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey and dropping clothes pins through a bottle.
An angel food cake baked by grandma was the only food, and a Dixie cup filled with kool-aid was the only drink. If it was a really good party, they’re holding a little brown lunch bag filled with a few pieces of penny candy that they’ll eat on the car ride home.
Moms and dads have used this hour of freedom to take a short nap and will soon arrive in station wagons to pick the kids up.
Things are a little different here in Mexico.
Not only is the whole family invited to the kids’ parties, but a spread sheet is needed for the planning.
Rented venue ... check.
Mariachi band ... check.
Caterers ... check.
Multiple piñatas ... check.
Bouncy castles ... check.
The list goes on.
Families return home five hours later with three decorated bags stuffed with piñata candy and a party favor of a live goldfish, complete with bowl.
And I find myself wondering, “Whatever happened to Pin the Tail on the Donkey?”
I’m a little worried.
My two grandsons will be moving back to the United States from Mexico in less than a month. The youngest will turn three a few weeks after the move.
He’ll be expecting a fiesta.