Grampa had a big birthday this Thanksgiving, one that could only be properly rung in with a piñata.
It was all things a piñata fashioned by little hands should be – slightly awkward but bearing much charm, boasting a roomy interior, and surprisingly concrete in only one or two spots. The nose on this guy, for example, could withstand the force of a dump truck and still hold its shape.
It’s just the thing if you have, say, an interior space of about 150 square feet and 5 kids under 8 to quietly contain within it for the duration of your festivities. Because a piñata is best enjoyed outside, with ample room to line up your participants by size, shortest to tallest, giving a wide berth to the slugger with the stick. You’ll need someone to work the rope that suspends the piñata; they should have a good sense of humor and quick reflexes to raise and lower it for dramatic effect whilst the slugger is fruitlessly swinging away at the air. We hired this guy.
Ever the professional, with his white collar dickey.
Witchard showed up too – bow tie and all.
And then, when the colorful guts are spilled, you march the brood back inside to enjoy the fruits of their labors – making hand turkeys with the plethora of art supplies busted out of the piñata. You didn’t think I had stuffed that thing with candy, did you? Because you sure as hell wouldn’t want to animate the kids with sugar in tight quarters like that. Besides, nothing says “Happy Birthday Grampa” like a glop-glittery hand turkey presented by little arms covered in super-hero tattoos, also born of the piñata.
It was a resounding success, on all fronts.