Ball Pit Birthdays, c. Early-2000s

Animals on the table: plastic lions, leopards,

baby elephants, giraffes prancing atop the birthday

cake, shimmering metallic in confetti cut-outs,

dawdling amongst jungle plants on paper plates and matching napkins.

Empty chairs line the walls as family and parents of

five-year-olds chat. They monitor toddlers who

grab for peaks and puffs of tissue paper

hatching from gift bags or pierce ragged

indents into wrapped boxes. Yet,

across the room in the netted, no-shoes-allowed structure, the

known, real world is devoured, dissociated by a

latex-smelling, brightly-filled ball pit.

Monsters roar and cower as lions and leopards with

neatly socked feet declare they will save

oceanic mermaids from those

perilous evil-doers. The mermaids

quarrel, decide they’d rather be dinosaurs, that they have to

rescue the lions and leopards and then

set off to tackle the monsters.

“Time for cake!” the birthday girl’s mom calls,

ushering a crowd of kids excitedly

vaulting back into their human selves to

wail the happy birthday song and line up,

X-ray eyeing the cake until receiving their pieces.

Young voices promise each other to return to the

zone of the imaginary. After cake and presents.