For his fourth birthday, my son has declared he wants a superhero-themed bash—but with “no girls.” We’re planning a cozy gathering at our apartment with his grandparents and a handful of preschool buddies along with their parents. As I sent out the Evite, a little guilt gnawed at me for not inviting the entire class.
Most of the parties we’ve attended have involved all 20 kids from his class, plus their parents and siblings, often hosted in rented venues. Some gatherings ballooned to 60 guests—more than my grandparents had at their 50th wedding anniversary! These extravagant celebrations typically include a circle time where kids introduce themselves (like they don’t already know each other), an abundance of sugary snacks, and the grand finale: the bounce house. Kids line up, barely able to contain their excitement, until their turn to jump arrives. We always leave with a treat bag stuffed with even more sugar and an assortment of plastic trinkets.
Our generation of parents often faces criticism for hosting grand preschool birthday parties. Experts say we’re spoiling our kids, materialistic, or trying to flaunt our affluence. However, I believe many parents do it out of a genuine desire to include everyone and avoid hurting feelings.
My son was allowed to invite six of his closest friends, and he quickly listed his favorites. When he asked for a couple more, I had to say no. Our apartment is small, and I can’t imagine entertaining six hyper boys fueled by cake. That’s when the guilt returned. Should I have sprung for a larger venue to accommodate the whole class?
Every time I step into my son’s preschool, I’m overwhelmed with joy at the buzz of activity. His classmates run up to us, eager to share their latest temporary tattoos or ninja skills. I’ve known many of these kids since they were in diapers.
Preschool is a magical time; aside from a few aversions to the opposite sex, there’s little bullying or cliques. Friendships are formed easily over superhero antics and rarely break apart. This is also a fantastic phase for us parents, as we can build friendships without getting tangled up in children’s drama. Inviting everyone promotes inclusivity and helps dodge hurt feelings that can arise as kids grow older.
Will some of the kids or their parents discover our party and feel left out? I had a serious chat with my son about keeping it under wraps at school, though I know it’s a tall order for a 3-year-old.
We’ve opted for a small, at-home celebration because I believe too many people would overwhelm him. Honestly, I’d be stressed out too if my birthday party had 60 guests. Plus, there’s a clear connection between spending and enjoyment.
We recently dropped $60 on tickets to a local kids’ festival that promised an array of fun: bounce houses, a train ride, live music, balloon artists, and endless ice cream. Yet, our son just wanted to chase his friends in the grassy area outside the festivities. His friends kept getting pulled away by parents eager to maximize their investment.
After a meltdown from our son, who declared, “I hate festivals!” I knew we needed a different approach for his birthday.
This year, the party will be distraction-free. No lines, no pressure—just the “Happy Birthday” song and plenty of blocks, Play-Doh, and toy trucks. The budget will mostly go toward wine and beer for the grown-ups. While I hope there are no hard feelings over our small guest list, we’re choosing to celebrate my son’s birthday his way: chasing down bad guys with a few of his favorite superhero pals.
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In summary, we’re embracing a more intimate and personal approach to birthday celebrations, focusing on meaningful connections and joy rather than extravagant parties.