How to Humiliate Yourself at a Toddler's Party

An Experience

I was recently invited to a toddler birthday party, and as if things couldn't get any worse, my wife was freaking out before we even arrived.

She had picked a present from a specially prepared list of shops, as our friends possess very specific tastes when it comes to toys. Only wooden stuff, organic, you know the drill.

The trouble was that the present she had bought, despite commanding a more than respectable price, looked extremely small. My wife was in pieces, it would look terrible, it would be ridiculous etc.

I’ll admit, I waved her agitation away. The child was turning four, and the present was a small velvet bag with rock chalks and a thingie to put on your head. OK, it wasn’t so big, but it looked cute and it seemed like straight out of a design shop.

I started sensing the potential hazard of my position only after she calmed down and thanked me for assuring her everything would be just fine.

As we approached the party and as the cars of the other attendees started looking all bigger than the other, the tiny bag containing our thing seemed to shrink up. But I was committed, expressing any doubts now would be a lethal mistake, so my confidence had to be instant, unwavering and nonchalant.

I knew that I was doomed the minute we got in. People had bought entire wooden houses, a myriad of things that I couldn’t name—big things—there was even someone with an electronically propelled pony, the size of a big dog. But that’s not all. The presents were all to be given at the same time, in front of a professional camera person.

As I write these words, words which could very well be my very last post on Substack, I’m actively avoiding my wife’s gaze, worried that its very sight might turn me into stone.

At this stage all options are on the table. A window gives onto a large forest, I could probably get lost in there, but I think I might starve. I’m still weighing up whether this is worse than what awaits me home, if I even make it back. I have the notion of escaping to South America and living in Uruguay or Ecuador, having a herd of alpacas, maybe weaving ponchos. This is foolish of course. She would without a doubt find me there.

No, I think the best strategy will be gaslighting her. If the lie is brazen enough, if the acting is just right, I can instil an atom of doubt in her. Once doubt is there, it then becomes a matter of unwavering resilience. This is going to be tough. Not a struggle for victory, but a struggle for existence itself.

To all those with whom I have exchanged and created contact on Substack: I love you. If you don’t hear from me within a fortnight, please contact the emergency services.

And please, please guys. Forget what everyone told you when you were a teenager, that ‘sizes doesn’t matter’. That was a complete lie, your life might depend on it.