After Saturday I should almost lose my crummy status - as Sproglet's party kicked ass! The pimms flowed, party food was devoured by parents and children alike and Simon worked his butt off in front of what can only be described as a 'difficult' crowd. One 4 year old loved every trick Simon threw at him, but Sproglet was more interested in the contents of the dining room table and kept wandering off to nibble and socialise.
Husband used every ounce of sociability he had left after a long week - chatting to strangers, making drinks and attempting to video the birthday cake moment. We'd had a small ruck in the morning when I unwrapped Sproglet's dinosaur cake - a thick dense mousse, more like a dessert; the corner had been ruptured in transit. Instead of saying 'Happy Birthday Finn' it was 'Happy Birthday F'. Great. What an Fing ejit. There were a couple of childless folk here - my cousin and the godparents - all of whom stayed late. People with kids knew when the time was up (when the kids were bouncing off walls for example) but childless folk never leave until the drink runs out.
We ordered curry and I collapsed into bed at 10:30pm, utterly spent but in a haze of happiness. Sproglet howled through his bath time he was so consumed by tirdeness. All his excitement and running around and opening an obscene amount of gifts had sent him over the edge. I scooped him in my arms and sang (the poor) child to sleep. Mixing schoolmates with local Mothers and godparents and the odd random guest all together was a recipe for disaster. But throw in enough Pimms, a cracking cake, an energetic kid's enterainer, minature sandwiches and not forgetting cocktail sausages and you have success! Thank god he isn't 4 for another year... In my youth I could party 7 mights a week. Now, one kiddie bash and I am mush.
Was it worth all the effort? You bet!
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