Elijah's cousin Allison had her third birthday party today. Her parents, who recently moved back to L.A., have been sending her to hip-hop dance day camp while they attempt to attend to the excessive demands of a voracious newborn. The camp occurs at a place in Tarzana that bears the rather generic name "Studio Experience," and it was here that they threw the party.

Studio Experience is owned by a woman who once wrote several hit songs for Janet Jackson's Control album. Various framed items at the place reveal that she's also worked with Earth, Wind, and Fire and was a Gerber baby in 1968. I've been to my share of generic corporate children's exercise rooms, and this isn't one of them. It has character, even if a good chunk of that character comes from glossy photos, prominently displayed, of Jasmine Guy.

Here I found myself, at 10:30 AM on a Sunday, at a party where children were doing The Chicken Dance, led by a woman with astonishing breasts. There was also pizza, homemade brownies and cookies, and a limbo to "Walkin' On Sunshine."

"Permission to blog?" I asked my brother-in-law.

"You can do whatever you want," he said. "But it's no hot, dirty nightclub in Hollywood where you pay 10 bucks to hop your kids up on sugar."

This was an unveiled reference to Baby Loves Disco. They'd attended the first one when my sister was very, very pregnant. Fun was at a premium that day, and we didn't exactly find that premium.

"They moved it to The Knitting Factory," I said.

"That should be better," he said.

The major difference between this party and Baby Loves Disco, other than the extreme lack of alcohol, was the fact that all the parents of the 19 kids in attendance sat off to the side and observed. Studio Experience didn't consider our good time its first priority. One man, wearing a Budweiser cap and a NASCAR-style mustache, looked especially unhappy. I attempted to join in the party, but I knocked a little girl over while heading for the limbo bar, and decided to head for the pizza instead.

Later, we went back to my sister's house. In attendance were both my sisters, my brother-in-law all three of my nieces, my mother, my father, my Aunt Estelle, my Uncle Larry, my Uncle Rick, my mother-in-law, Elijah, and Regina. It's very strange having so much family in such close proximity. For most of my adult life, I've lived very far away from family, and suddenly everyone is around all the time.

I've no observation more profound than that right now, but everyone is getting to know Elijah quite well. If nothing else, they find him interesting. At some point, he and Ali went into her room to do God knows what. After about 30 minutes, I was dispatched to examine the situation.

They were jumping on her bed, both of them naked.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" I asked.

"We're surfing without our clothes on!" Elijah said.

"Let me guess, Elijah. This was your idea."

"Uh-huh!" he said. "Go away now, daddy! Grownups don't surf naked."

"That's what you think," I said.

The boy has so much to learn.

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