It’s that time of year—if you have a school-aged child, somewhere between Thanksgiving and Christmas, you will be “invited” to their classroom holiday party, and woe betide you should you choose to decline. Despite the promise that you’ll be making memories to last a lifetime, there are some hazards that accompany your attendance. Not long ago, I was new to this Game of Thrones-y ritual of classroom politics and desperately wishing that there was some type of survival guide to accompany it. None existed—before now. You’re welcome.
- The Problem: The Room Mother
For the uninitiated, a Room Mother is someone who has volunteered to do stuff in the classroom, including planning holiday parties, emailing you way too many times a day, and staging public shamings of the parents who don’t raise enough fundraiser money. Now, I would rather chew glass than join the PTA, so I try not to judge the room mom too harshly, but in my own experience they all seem to fit a certain personality type. Last year I was in charge of bringing green sprinkles, so I brought green sprinkles. Unbeknownst to me, these were the wrong color green. She wanted hunter green, I brought kelly. I got such a scathing telling off that I was certain that at any moment she would begin to seriously doubt my commitment to Sparkle Motion.
Have you ever heard the phrase, “It is better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven?” this applies here. Befriending the room mom is key to avoiding tasks like the Cookie Station or being glared at witheringly from 100 paces when you attempt to leave the party to go to work. This is best achieved with a gift card to Hobby Lobby or by repinning her stuff on Pinterest with sycophantic affirmations.
- The Problem: The Cookie Station
The Cookie Station is where dreams go to die. Somewhere along the lines, someone decided that decorating sugar cookies “to take home later” was a super duper idea for a party populated mostly by the 6-and-under set. Spoiler alert: it’s not. I learned the hard way that the Room Mother is not okay with kids eating these beforehand and spoiling their appetite for the mini mincemeat pie tray that she painstakingly put together. The problem, of course, is that as soon as the kelly green sprinkles go on as a finishing touch, you will not get the cookie away from a Kindergartner without losing a finger.
The Grabber. For a mere $14.95, at retailers wherever fine products are sold, you can attain one of these bad boys. Best paired with sharpening your reflexes at a Krav Maga class, you can quickly swipe the treats away, saving them so that they can be ground into the bottom of your kid’s backpack later.
- The Problem: Tiny Chairs
You know what I’m talking about, and what you’re in for. The tiny chair is a demonic contraption, its plastic specially molded to replicate sciatic nerve pain whenever you sit in them. Hunched over and suffering, these chairs are perfectly designed to get people to confess their darkest sins just to get the pain to mercifully, finally stop.
We return to the As Seen on TV endcap of your neighborhood drug store, where you can acquire a pair of Booty Pop padded undies. I would never recommend these as a figure enhancer because you are beautiful and your derriere is doubtless fine the way it is, but as a way to defeat the tiny chair, it has no equal. As a bonus to you thrifty moms, you can likely find a pair of used Booty Pop knickers for 2.95 on eBay this very instant.