We left the story of Alden’s birthday piñata with it hanging in the window to dry, forlornly shaped like a balloon and not a donkey. Sadly, that problem never resolved itself. It did, however, get some gussying up before meeting its final fate of destruction-by-bludgeoning.

But I get ahead of myself.

Alden was very excited to get to pop the balloon. It was, of course, a rare opportunity to wield a sharp knife.

I know I’ll get lots of flack for letting a three-year-old use a steak knife to pop a balloon, but come on, she was almost four. Once the balloon was successfully popped, she delightedly looked inside for the treats.

It seems I had neglected to mention that the treats get put in later. Disappointed, she asked Kato for confirmation.

After there was consensus that there were, indeed, no treats in the piñata, it was time to paint.

Kato demanded that I paint a W on it.

I’m not sure if it’s because of how fun it is to say “double-yew”, or because of how easy it is to accidentally draw a W when you’re being all spastic with a paintbrush, but W was both Alden’s and Kato’s first and favorite letter. It is oft requested.

Not to be outdone, Alden then insisted I write her name on it. Then Kato’s. Then August’s. I think I can safely say that it’s the only piñata in the history of man to be labeled “Alden Kato August W,” which, as far as I’m concerned, makes it way better than a donkey piñata.

Our attention spans waned soon after, so while the paint dried and the kids ran off to do something more interesting, I scrounged around under the couch and behind the bookshelves to find some “treats” to put inside the piñata.

One of Alden’s favorite things are these little rubber goldfish you can buy at our very favorite store in town Twigs & Teacups for 6 cents a piece. She’s collected about 30 of them (sometimes our dear friends who work at Twigs comp her a fish or two) but doesn’t keep track of where they all are at any given time (surprise) so I figured she’d probably just think she got a bunch of new ones. And the matchbox cars were probably played with once before disappearing, so I don’t even think they were on the radar. I used my cow hole puncher to punch out some confetti, tied it all up with some curly ribbon, and we were good to go.

The party was over at Matthew’s mom’s house (the barn is much too cluttered to let loose a couple of stick-swinging kids). Alden was given first crack at it.

I was worried that due to the shoddy manufacture of our piñata, she would end up being the only one to have at it. Luckily, both of our kids seem to be lightweights in the weaponry department (I’m pretty sure they get that from their father, who famously struck out at t-ball as a child).

Luckily, Alden and Kato’s friend from across the street Madeline was at the party, and defied her generally demure demeanor by giving that piñata enough solid whacks to actually break it open.

We all agreed that if she hadn’t been there, we might have been at it for several hours. And, as predicted, Alden was delighted to get even more rubber goldfish, and was surprised to rediscover the old matchbox cars (which, incidentally, are now lost somewhere under Matthew’s mom’s couch).

So, all in all it was a wild success, and we topped it all off with the traditional Jell-o cake baked with love by our new resident expert Matthew.

This might just be the last time that a ghetto piñata with recycled toys and no candy in it gets such a warm reception, but that is also why being 4 years old is awesome. It was a happy, happy birthday. Thanks to all of you out there who sent well-wishes Alden’s way.