Celebrational!

AT 27-years-old, I was a party pooper.

All it took was a piñata, a stick, and a case of middle child syndrome.

My housemate, Jess and I had a party on the weekend to celebrate our birthdays. 

It was Disney themed and glorious. 

Speaking of Disney, I think I should risk being considered a bit daft and let you know that when I was a kid I used to think Disney was spelt D.I.S.N.E.P because I couldn't understand the cursive on the Y.

An easy mistake to make…but quite awkward when you go through most of your childhood thinking a man's name is Walt Disnep. 

So anyway, Jess and I went out shopping to get all the bells and whistles to ensure the Disney or Disnep theme was adhered to appropriately. 

Jess insisted we get a piñata and I wasn't one to stand in her way. 

As the party evening rolled on, it was finally time to hit the piñata. 

Somehow in my rather merry state (I blame the punch concoction Jess prepared) I insisted I go first, before Jess and our guests. Being the eldest of the birthday girls, I selfishly felt and vocalised that it was only right.

Being a middle child by default (i'm one of four and my brother - the second eldest ended up being cooler than me) I have to take opportunities when they arise. 

I put the blind fold on and went to hit the piñata with a stick, which also doubled as my brother Nick's chimney sweep (he was Bert from Mary Poppins). 

Just as I was about to hit the piñata, Nick decided it couldn't be that easy and took me on a journey through the living room and turned me in a circle - all to make me lose my sense of direction. 

Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for our guests, I somehow incorporated my 'spotting' skills learnt from dancing to keep my direction on track - but instead of using my eyes, I used my arm as a way to keep tabs on where the piñata was. 

I somehow did quite well and was directly facing the piñata when I was about to swing. 

The 15 or so guests, and Jess, patiently awaited their turn, while potentially hoping I'd miss.

I grasped the stick firmly and tried to call upon any biomechanics principles I learnt in grade 11 and 12. 

In our physical education classes, we applied the principles to golf.

During the term, our golfing style was photographed and my teacher gave me a black and white picture to reference in my assignment. 

When I saw the image I was so delighted as my golfing swing looked like it had the perfect follow through. 

Then I noticed the ball was still on the ground. 

It was the perfect case of 'big swing - no ding'. 

So I did what anyone else would have done. Or just me. Because the image was black and white, I coloured in the white golf ball with a lead pencil so it blended in with the grass. I sure fooled them. 

Anyway, back to the party. 

With all my might, I took a swing. 

It was either my built up faux-middle child angst, or me thinking there might be a baseball scout looking over our fence, that made me put all my power into my swing. 

I felt the stick connect with the piñata. 

Oops. 

Taking off my blind fold, my fear was confirmed. 

I had accidentally annihilated the beautiful piñata that featured colourful characters from the Disney movie Frozen. 

There were chocolates and lollies everywhere. It was like an Oompa Loompa had exploded. 

Our guests were still idly standing by for their turn that wouldn't come. 

Perhaps I underestimated my strength, or more likely, perhaps it was the lacking craftsmanship of the piñata. 

Back in my day (yep…I'm 27 - I definitely can say that now) we used to make piñatas for parties.  

Layers upon layers of flour, water and a shiteload of newspaper was all it took to make piñatas so sturdy that any child that hit them would almost fall over from a kind of 'recoil' effect. 

The purchased piñata? Not the case. 

And because of this, it wasn't just the piñata that was shattered instantly. 

It was the spirits of our party guests, all who wanted a go. 

A part from giving all guests lollies and chocolates in consolation, there was nothing I could do and piecing the piñata back together didn't work. 

I could only learn from the incident and plan for next time. 

The only way to not be the party pooper is the elaborate plan of giving everyone their own piñatas. 

All homemade, sturdy things, shaped like Oompa Loompas and Walt Disneps. 

The end.