The Purple Cow, and Other Strange Purple Things

Sometimes, at 5:00 on a Monday, you just throw a Purple Cow Party. I don't actually know what a Purple Cow Party is, but I just hosted one. You see, I didn’t invent this idea. It came from my son’s activity book, which he has been slowly working his way through. He is a boy of precision, and therefore was enthused by the specific instructions that came with this task.

So, we stopped at the dollar store this afternoon and picked up a few bare-bones supplies: purple paper streamers, balloons, and a tub of ice cream. That covers the basics of what a four-year-old needs to party. As soon as we got home the children attacked the package of balloons, fought over who got to have their balloon blown up first, and then shifted the cyclone of activity to another room, leaving behind the rubble.

There is something about white balloons—they get me every time. Out of the corner of my eye I see a pile of condoms. I always do a double-take. What? No, just balloons. The clear plastic “confetti” balloons are actually much worse. One New Year’s Eve all the confetti balloons got popped, and by morning there were bits of busted condom-like plastic everywhere. I vacuumed immediately that morning, because it wasn’t that kind of a party.

Anyway. So while the children were playing in the other room I started decorating for our Purple Cow Party with random purple stuff, and I just couldn’t focus on the cow theme. I kept thinking of the song The Purple People Eater. I hate that song. I hated it even in childhood, when my mind buried it away in my subconscious. I don’t even known most of the lyrics, but what I know kept running through my head. One-eyed, one-horned, flyin', purple people eater…

I decided I’d looked at enough purple and remembered enough song. I dropped the purple streamers and moved back to the condom white balloons. My son is very strict about rules, and he can read, so he had already advised me that the instructions stated the decorations should be all purple. So, I was going to have to do something about those white balloons. I went through the kids' pitiful markers, most of which were half dried out. I found one vital marker entitled "dark blue". Under these circumstances it is fortunate that my strict, brilliant four-year-old reader is also glaringly colorblind. He can’t tell blue from purple at all. Perfect. I started giving the balloons a little color and stood gazing at my work with satisfaction when: One eyed, one horned, flyin’ purple people eater…

I needed more distraction. The instructions state all attendees should wear purple. I moved to my closet. Aha! Shoved in the back hung a very large, very fluffy, very purple tutu that I made myself as part of a Halloween costume last year. Brilliant. Then I moved onto my son’s dresser. Not surprisingly, the boy owns nothing remotely purple. I beckoned him from the playroom, and we got creative. The boy even suggested we add on the bells.

Lastly, because I am cheap and refused to buy face paint (as per the laws instructions of the party), we whipped out my tempera cakes and I painted “Moo” on everyone’s cheeks. We officially looked like freaks, which of course brought back: One-eyed, one-horned, flyin’ purple people eater…Gah!

Then we all played a exhilarating game of keep-the-balloon-off-the-ground until the guests arrived. Our good friends were more than eager to also have “Moo” painted on their cheeks—the sign of true friendship. The kids got busy chasing my son’s tail of unraveling ribbon, his cowbells jingling joyfully through the backyard. I got out that tub of ice cream, and my son showed up to practice his art of carefully reading directions so that I could make the purple cow milkshakes correctly. This was completed by reciting the poem: “I never saw a purple cow, I never hope to see one. But I can tell you anyhow, I'd rather see than be one!"

And all that was running through my head was: One-eyed, one-horned, flyin’ purple people eater…

Here, let’s just get it out of our systems: