One afternoon I overheard the boys discussing birthday parties. We had recently celebrated Elliott's tenth birthday, and everyone was still pumped about how much fun it had been.

For Elliott's party that year, we had hosted friends and cousins and celebrated with a Sports Party.

The schedule went something like this:

That party was every bit as simple as it looks on paper—but it was also a blast. The boys had a wonderful time, and they were still talking about it days later.

"For my next party, I'm going to do something like that," said one of the boys, "and at the end of the night, we're gonna tell facts about Chuck Norris."

Chuck Norris trivia. The only thing that could have made that party better.

Another standout party in our Boy Party History was one we hosted for Ethan's eighth birthday. My husband had just finished reading Treasure Island to our boys, and our household was on a pirate kick.

Ethan invited the boys in his class at school. After a few classic party games (relay races, determine what items are in this sock), I told the boys we were going to be treated to a special guest. The guest, I explained, was going to ask us a few questions about a literary passage I was going to read to everyone.

I pulled out Treasure Island and told the boys we'd listen to one chapter, and I was pleasantly surprised by the general lack of eye rolling. The boys sat relatively quiet and listened to the tale.

A few minutes later, out came Pirate Paul (who looked remarkably like my husband in a wig). Pirate Paul had long black tresses that were lovingly braided, as well as a gold hoop earring and a wicked pirate accent.

"Aaarrgh," he bellowed. "Where's me birthday boy?"

For those reeling from Paul's willingness to dress up, this is where I should mention that I almost didn't get Pirate Paul to attend our party. That morning, just as I finished pulling together the costume, my husband started to buck. He wasn't too sure about making an absolute fool of himself in front of a bunch of eight-year-old boys (and other grown-up guests). He left for work unconvinced of any special guest appearances that evening.

But on the way to the office, my husband heard one of his favorite radio hosts talking about a similar experience he had, how he did something silly for his own son and how it was absolutely worth it.

Paul came home that afternoon ready for the party. He dressed up and looked ridiculous—and the look on Ethan's face when his father came into the front room dressed as a pirate made it absolutely worth it. I happened to take a picture at that very moment, and it is a picture I treasure. The smile on our son's face is something I will never forget.

That moment also made me somehow love my husband even more.

Only once have we spent an inordinate amount of money on a birthday party. It was the summer baby Henry was born, and the summer felt like a bit of a bust. New babies are wonderful, but they can sure cramp your style. The boys didn't complain—they were more than willing to watch those countless hours of television. But I wanted to go out with a bang, to have a proper send-off to a summer that had sort of dragged on just a bit.

We combined two of the boys' birthdays and invited all their friends plus a few more, all the cousins, and even a few of my own friends and neighbors. For four hours, we rented an inflatable waterslide that took up almost our entire backyard. It was huge and impressive and very, very wet.

As each guest walked into the yard and saw the enormous slide, he would shriek with delight. Over and over, guests rode down the slide, which was pretty much the extent of the party. I could barely get those boys to eat or sing or do anything remotely birthday partyish beyond just having fun. After two hours, everyone left, and my boys and husband spent the other two hours taking advantage of having the slide to themselves. Paul continued to ride until the owner came to retrieve his slide, and even then he had to practically beg my husband to stop riding because it was getting late and he needed to leave.

Excerpted with permission from How Do You Tuck In a Superhero? And Other Delightful Mysteries of Raising Boys by Rachel Balducci, published by Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2010.