How to throw a kids party
Posted Tuesday 7th October 2014 By Ericka Waller
So Thing-three’s Dalmatian party went well. Everybody followed the dress code (can you guess what it was?), and the sun shone brightly, so 18 onesie-clad children skipped off to play in the garden. “Don’t worry”, I assured everyone, “I’ve done the dog poo check. Who wants a nice cup of tea?” (As opposed to a crap one.)
The kettle had almost boiled when someone shouted “Argh! Dog poo!” in a similar voice to King Thistle’s when he announces there is a jelly flood. There is nothing funny about washing squashed dog-eggs out of tiny toes however, while the toes owner giggles and wiggles and spreads it everywhere.
Someone cited the trampoline as the source of the shite, but it was only a wet poo footprint. We had a thrifty treasure hunt on a hands! It went round and round the garden, gaining in momentum, until I finally trod in the slippery prize. It was hidden in the long grass… waiting.
After a quick hose down of the garden, and my slipper, I turned up my best party music (The Clash, The Pixies, The Knack) and danced with myself. A child muttered One Direction. I chose to hear it as Janes’ Addiction instead.
People drank tea and assured me I’d put on a great bash. I looked at the lonely bowl of popcorn, hula hoops, malteasers and white chocolate buttons I’d mixed together and thought they were being too kind.
Luckily someone else made the cake so that bit went well, except I cried like a baby when we did the singing.
It was the after bit which made me really sad. There is something very depressing about being the last one left at a party, after everyone else has gone home. They took all their chatter and energy with them, leaving the house sad and deflated, like a bouncy castle doing down.
I popped balloons and scraped icing off the floor, remembering my old life. The ex-husband would make me a cup of tea and we’d sit down to open presents with the kids. I’d get stressed if they opened them too soon for me to write a note of who bought what for the thank you cards.
After they’d gone to sleep we’d share a Nando’s takeout and talk about everyone.
There are no Nando’s now, and no sleep either. The little two, high on sugar and spots were still chatting about the poo hunt at 11pm. Thing-One came in at 3am to tell me she had a tummy ache, then promptly regurgitated a huge portion of sea-salt and cider vinegar crisps on the crochet bedspread.
All in all, I’d say it went quite well
For more photos go to my babycentre blog