Ok, so it would be a lie to say that I don't get invited to parties any more, but it seems to me that I mainly get invited because of my ability to drive my children to the venue and then sit on them to prevent them from damaging anything and convince them to eat the food.
The food at these occasions consists of crisps (good), chocolate (very good) and dinky sandwiches filled with either Marmite or cheese (which mainly end up in the bin). The cake is normally cut into unfeasibly small pieces, left to dry out for an hour on a plate and then ineffectively wrapped in novelty napkins and shoved into the bottom of a dozen party bags. At one party recently my children mistakenly sat down with a couple of poor souls who were being made to eat the sandwiches and the fruit before the chocolate finger plate was permitted to alight upon the table. Needless to say my two left their places in search of richer pickings elsewhere. I convince myself they were developing the skill of circulating. Furthermore, the hostess was forced to hand out the jelly and ice cream by stealth because some partygoers were not allowed it (yes, this really is the world I inhabit).
I could go on about the futility of trying to get under 5's to play pass the parcel and musical bumps, but I'll leave that to your imagination. Suffice to say that I am not at the Bouncy Castle party that is currently in full swing. I managed to drop off my little darlings (and their daddy) and extricate myself from the proceedings to come home and eat a large piece of unsquashed coffee and walnut in peace.
If I were you, I'd repent now because hell is a giant inflatable covered in myriad bouncing 6 year olds. Don't say no one told you.
Sunday, 7 December 2008
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