How a Birthday Party Turned Our Backyard Into Toddler WrestleMania

If I had to make a list of parenting lessons I’ve learned the hard way, it would be longer than a CVS receipt and twice as painful to read. But somewhere near the top of that list, right between “toddlers can open childproof locks faster than adults” and “never trust a two-year-old who says they don’t need to use the bathroom,” sits this gem: there is such a thing as “too much birthday.”

I discovered this phenomenon at my oldest son’s second birthday party. It was a day that taught me that perfectly normal things—like cake, balloons, and the simple act of unwrapping presents—can overwhelm small children faster than you can say “Happy Birthday.”

In fact, before the party even began, he had caused a small disaster. Sweet Honey Doodle had worked so hard all morning to make little pumpkin-shaped sandwiches that we were going to serve during the party. About five minutes after she set them out, our favorite monkey decided to give the tablecloth a little pull. Down came the sandwiches and the glass plate they were sitting on. The party began with us sweeping up glass and cleaning up a mess as the first guests were arriving.

Now let’s talk about the party itself. Picture it: We’re in full party mode. The backyard looks like a Hallmark store exploded. There are balloons tied to every surface, cake crumbs dotting the grass like confetti, and that particular brand of chaos that only comes from combining sugar, small children, and the acoustic nightmare that is “Five Little Monkeys” blaring from a Bluetooth speaker.

My son had already endured two hours of birthday festivities. He’d been sung to, photographed more than a Kardashian, and forced to smile while relatives pinched his cheeks and declared how much he’d grown. The kid was running on fumes and frosting.

But we weren’t done yet. Oh no. We still had the grand finale: gift opening.

Spoiler alert: it was not fun.

About three gifts in, I could see the warning signs. His little face had that glazed-over look that said, “I have reached my maximum capacity for birthday-related stimulation.” But like fools, we pressed on. “One more present, buddy! Look at this pretty wrapping paper!”

That’s when it happened.

My sweet, normally gentle two-year-old picked up the next gift—a nicely wrapped box with a cheerful bow—and proceeded to use it as a weapon. In one swift motion that would have made The Rock proud, he raised that present above his head, turned and brought it down like a birthday-themed steel chair right onto another kid’s noggin.,

The party went silent. Then came the crying. Not just from the victim, but from several other children who apparently decided this was their cue to have emotional breakdowns of their own. My mother stood behind everyone scowling at our child’s ill-behavior. It was like someone had pulled the fire alarm at a daycare center.

As we scrambled to comfort the injured party-goer and restore order to what had become a toddler battle royal, my son stood there holding the weapon—I mean, gift—with the satisfied expression of someone who had just solved a very complicated problem.

When the chaos finally calmed down and we convinced him to actually open the present instead of using it for blunt force trauma, we discovered the ultimate irony: it was a wooden puzzle. That’s right — our child had just bludgeoned someone with a 2-inch-thick piece of wood.

The family of the child our son had inadvertently inducted into his birthday wrestling match was very gracious about the whole thing, despite the growing lump on their child’s head. They laughed it off, said these things happen, and assured us their little one was fine. Then they promptly moved away.

The whole experience taught me that we often forget how overwhelming perfectly normal things can be for children. What seems like innocent fun to us—a backyard full of people, loud singing, and bright decorations —can cause sensory overload to a two-year-old.

It’s like expecting someone to enjoy a concert while they’re having a migraine. Sure, the music is lovely, but all they really want is for everyone to stop making noise and turn off the lights.

Since then, we’ve implemented what I call the “No WrestleMania Zone” policy at birthday parties. Gifts get opened later, in private, when the birthday child can actually focus on and appreciate each one without feeling like they’re performing in a circus.

So if you’re ever at one of our birthday parties and wonder why we don’t open gifts at the party, there’s a very good reason. It’s not because we’re ungrateful or antisocial. It’s because we’ve learned that sometimes the best gift you can give a child is protecting them from having “too much birthday.”