I wound up realizing, after some time, that Mama's party games were always more fun, and far more inclusive, than other people's. Mama had pinata-whacking. Ginger's mom had us play "The Farmer in the Dell" (which is, of course, something involving most of the kids sitting part of it out, and "the cheese" wasn't very pleased about standing alone, either). Mama had us fishing for treats in a frog pond (the trampoline, draped with blue fabric, with paper lily pads glued on one side of a metal juice-lid, and a treat taped to the other side). Ginger's mom had us playing Musical Chairs. Mama and Woodcarving Aunt had us going on adventure-style treasure quests, with plenty of loot for everyone at the end.
I'm becoming certain that chief among the reasons that some kids are such utterly selfish and cruel brats is because they're encouraged to it. Kids are just being kids, and it can be let slide.
They should have come down on my ass the first time they saw us taunting poor Lillian in elementary school. The poor girl was cursed with early development, and had cleavage in the fifth grade. The sixth grade teacher got me but good, and that shut me down (somewhat resentfully, but still I stopped). She'd moved out of the district before we realized what appalling bitches we'd been.