October is a busy month chez Slugs, snails and puppy dog tails as my two oldest sons have birthdays within two weeks of each other, while their cousin falls in between. As a result I can now confidently report that Jonah and Zach aren't party animals.
I know that it is the lot of the hostess to miss out on most of the fun as you fuss over sandwiches and carrot sticks that will invariably go to waste as the children lay waste to the Smarties and Hula Hoops, but this year I was kept prisoner by two crying toddlers throughout both parties.
The moment the entertainer, the wonderful Jolly Olly from The Perfect Party People (who deserves a big plug to all London and South East mums, for being both rather handsome and a brilliant entertainer) started his act, the screaming commenced. Unless I was cuddling both twins, they were crying and desolately searching for me.
I tried any and all configuration of alternatives – daddy, grandma, auntie, complete stranger – all to no avail, the tears could only be stemmed by mummy cuddles. This is sweet under usual circumstances, but a total nightmare when you are trying to corral 32 four and five year olds, high on sugar and excitement.
It was no better at my oldest's seventh birthday, a bowling party at Hollywood Bowl . The only time the crying stopped was when Jonah attempted to bowl himself down the lanes. I am sure if he had worked up enough speed he would have got a strike, but luckily he was hampered by the dangling legs of his Halloween Spider costume.
On the bright side perhaps their pathological dislike of all things party could provide me with a good excuse not to hold one on their special day.
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