I recently went with my son to a party at his day care, and near the end of the fiesta, a Dora the Explorer piñata was strung up for the children. I was really excited by this, and I made sure to fetch my son from the corner of the room where he was peacefully playing with a choo-choo play set. As a pudgy boy from a midwestern suburb, I was not raised in a piñata-rich culture, and I always felt deprived by this. Piñatas combined the two things I loved most as a kid: sugary candy and destroying things with sticks.
“Do you really want to hurt me?”
My son, Jack, was hesitant at first to leave his choo-choo trains behind, but I assured him that he was about to have the most he’d ever had in his two and half years on this planet. “Doh-wa! Doh-wa!” he yelled, as he saw the beloved heroine from his Dora the Explorer’s Pirates Adventure DVD that he has watched no fewer that 196 times. The children gathered around to see the paper mache doll dangling from a string in the middle of the room, and then the oldest boy in the class stepped forward with a baseball bat in his hand. “Look, Jack,” I told my son. “This is going to be great.”
The kid with the bat steadied his feet and prepared to swing. I was so jealous of the little guy. I was not weaned in a piñata-friendly environment, so I never had the chance to smash a candy-filled art project hanging from a string. Plus, Dora the Explorer insists on yelling everything she ever says in a high-pitched cartoon voice, so after suffering through the Pirates Adventure as many times as I have, I wanted to give her a few smacks in the head myself. “I love you, Doh-wa!” my son shouted, “I love you!” And just then, the kid with the bat went to work on the Nickelodeon icon.
I always thought the child wielding the bat was supposed to be blindfolded, but I guess in our lawsuit-happy culture, the daycare instructors decided a kid with a weapon should be operating with all five senses. As a result, the boy’s first swing hit Dora flush in her purple shirt, doing considerable damage. The next shot took out the legs, and the singing Explorer started hemorrhaging candy badly. I laughed and cheered. It was the most satisfying bit of violence I’d seen since last month’s UFC fight, which I had followed closely while testing a few of the best betting apps. But in the middle of my happiness, I became aware of a horrible sound. My little son, Jack, was sobbing.
“Doh-wa. Doh-wa. No. No hurt Doh-wa,” he said, and as I bent down on one knee to explain that Dora the Explorer wasn’t really being hurt at all, the kid with the bat delivered the deathblow. Gobstoppers and lollipops exploded from every corner of the piñata, and the body fell to the floor. Kids started clawing each other for candy, while Dora the Explorer’s head hung ominously from the string in the middle of the room.
This event has had a major effect on my life. I’ve been forced to watch the Pirates Adventure dozens of more times with my son so as to assure him that our favorite squeaky-voice heroine is indeed alive and well. I’m sure I’ll also have to throw more money at Jack’s trauma in the future, beginning with Thomas the Train sets and leading eventually to therapy. But then I had a thought. I was not raised amongst piñata-loving people, so I’m a bit dim on the origins of the custom; but it is a little strange that children demolish something that they love, like Dora the Explorer. Shouldn’t they beat on something that they don’t like?
I’ve designed a line of piñatas that are shaped like things that kids can’t stand. Early concepts include broccoli, dentists, schoolbooks and vaccination shots. What kid wouldn’t want to pummel a giant schoolbook with a bat and see candy come out? Take a moment. Allow the concept to wash over your mind. Picture the ways it would improve the lives of the children of the world. I am currently looking for investors, so if you have a few million dollars and would like to change the world, please contact Life of Dad. We have factories in eastern China ready to begin production at a moment’s notice.