Manhattan's meatpacking district is the epicenter of either cool or pretension, depending on your perspective. On one corner, the Pastis bistro draws Hiltons, Olsens and their miniskirted posses. Across the street at the ridiculously hip Hotel Gansevoort, models sip drinks by the rooftop pool.

On a recent Saturday in October, though, the nearby club Cielo was The Place To Be.

The line outside massed as soon as the doors opened. The hopefuls gathering at the velvet rope had waited all week for this party. As usual, Darren Lenz, a linebacker type with the face of a GQ model, was manning the door, looking very get-out-of-my-face in a sleek black suit. His job is to decide who's cool enough to enter.

But on this particular day he had a new assignment: helping a half-dozen frazzled parents fold baby strollers and get their preschoolers out of the rain before somebody caught a head cold.

It was 2 p.m. No models were preening, the animals on the dance floor were stuffed and a diaper-changing station was outside the women's room. "Baby Loves Disco" was in full swing.

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It started in Philadelphia in 2004, when mother-of-one Heather Murphy sought an alternative to mind-numbing hours of "Elmo's World." Parents, she says, are "always looking for something new and different to do with the kids that is at least tolerable to us." So she struck a deal with a club called Fluid to open its doors one Saturday each month for an afternoon dance party with a twist: It's exclusively for kids under 7 and their parental posses.

But this isn't merely a kiddie party transplanted to an edgier, albeit temporarily childproofed, space.

The music is a mix of '70s and '80s tunes (Barney is banned, but apparently the likes of "Eye of the Tiger" and "Undercover Angel" aren't), so parents can hit the dance floor alongside offspring. Adults can eat nachos and order cocktails while the kids snack on animal crackers and juice. And in case of overstimulation, toys, books and tents are set up in a corner "chill-out area" -- a sensory overload break that might also be useful to the Lindsay Lohans of the world.

Baby Loves Disco has been selling out at Fluid since it began. When Brooklyn record producer Andy Hurwitz caught one of Murphy's parties, he knew it would be a perfect fit for New York.

Judging by the crowd at the first Manhattan party on a recent weekend, he was right. An hour after it began, dozens of families were on Cielo's dance floor and more were reclining on silky banquettes around the room. Cheerful toddlers were shaking diapered booty as they sipped from juice boxes and poked through bowls of mini-pretzels and popcorn scattered along low tables. Twelve hours earlier, those same tables held appletinis and bottles of beer.

By midnight, they would again.

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Leo Cullen, who came to the party with his wife and two kids, surveyed the scene and smiled. "Only in New York," he said, "can a 2-year-old experience club life."

Baby Loves Disco does seem tailor-made for a town where the backyard is an endangered species and apartments are so cramped that spending a weekend indoors with small kids can be like vacationing in a blender.

"You can't stay home on a rainy day. They'll start pulling apart all the electronics," said Rachel Peyton, a young mother who came with her husband and 17-month-old son. She was impressed with the party but wasn't thrilled at the cost: $10 per person -- children and adults.

But the party offered the Peytons a chance to be at a club together, something they rarely do since their son was born. "At the clubs, the party doesn't start until midnight. But for us, the other party begins at six or seven in the morning."

Danielle Robertson, her 17-month-old boy in tow, had brought her best friend along because the two can't hang out in clubs together much anymore.

"People want to still be themselves after they have children and keep living the life they used to have," said the friend, Diana Basso. "You don't want to become these women you see on `Oprah' who are like, `I'm a mother and that's all I am.'" (Like several parents, Robertson tied one of the club's helium balloons to her toddler's arm before turning him loose to explore the room. "It's his LoJack," she said.)

Cielo's owners are thrilled to be hosting the party. "It's not often you get to do something family-oriented," says Karrie Goldberg, Cielo's publicist. "And it exposes the club to a different group of people that's sometimes hard to reach." After just one party, she's getting calls from curious celebrity moms.

So take your kids clubbing. Really. The only risk is that you might introduce Flock of Seagulls to a whole new generation. Just don't be surprised if your child ends up sharing a juice box with the spawn of Sarah Jessica Parker or Kelly Ripa. No photos, please.

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Find it Online: http://babylovesdisco.com/

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asap contributor Melissa Rayworth is a freelance writer who still dances on bars, but not in the presence of her preschooler.

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