Things I've Thought At Birthday Parties

Ahhh the joys of kids' birthday parties. Because there is literally no other place that I'd rather be on a Saturday morning than in a sweaty village hall surrounded by 30 children who are all off their heads on Fruit Shoots and party rings. Here are just a few of the things that have crossed my frazzled mind while attending birthday parties with Jack.

"At what age is it acceptable to drop and dash?"

The answer to this is apparently not 4 although surely it won't be too long before I can abandon leave my son in the care of the suckers hosts?

"Is this real life?"

You see some pretty weird stuff at kids' parties. A few weeks ago I was at one with a very hungover friend and our kids (obvs) when two giant minions entered the room dancing to Whip Nae Nae. She looked at me as if to say "is this really happening or am I still drunk?"


"Am I allowed to eat that?"

The delicate etiquette of the buffet means that no-one wants to be the first parent to dive into the sausage rolls and quite literally take the food out of their child's mouth without being 100% sure that the offering is intended for the adults to chow down on too. The shame.

"Whose mum are you?"

When you get talking to another mum and the polite moment to ask "sorry, remind me...which one of them is your crotch fruit?" has passed.

"Why is he so miserable?"

Birthday parties are hard work when your child isn't a fan of enforced fun. In fact I'd go as far as to say that Jack is usually that child at a party. You know, the one who stands in a corner looking sad, clings to the parcel instead of passing it and only really starts to get into the party spirit when he finds another equally anti-social child to chase around and batter with balloons. Yay.

"You attach a stuffed horse to my midriff and call it fun? Bitch, please."

"How is the hokey cokey still a thing?"

Wikipedia tells me that the Hokey Cokey has been around since 1826! You'd think that after all these years there might be some newer, fresher party tunes to torture people with. Same goes for Black Lace's Superman and the Conga.

Then someone plays the Crazy Frog and all is forgiven.

"Is it home time yet?"

Although they typically only last for a couple of hours, I've found that parties become a vortex through which time passes unbelievably s..l..o..w..l..y. There's always that crushing moment when you think it must be time to leave and then realise that the cake hasn't even been brought out for everyone to sneeze on sing to yet.