So a few weeks ago we received an invite to the Baby's first Wacky Warehouse birthday party. It's not the first birthday party that he's been invited to but this invite came from one of the little girl's who he is at the childminders with. A girl I have only met a few times and whose parents I have never met as we all pick up and drop off at different times.
I felt a bit anxious turning up to a party where I wouldn't know anyone. But I had to remind myself to get a grip as it wasn't even my party - and hopefully The Baby would recognise her and we wouldn't be gate crashing someone's party! Haha!
On the way to the party I realised I hadn't got the birthday girl a pressie. What does one even get a girl? Who may be turning two...or perhaps three? I quickly texted our lovely childminder asking for help. I should have guessed the reply really...Frozen! Or just generally Disney Princess'. So I got some tat at TKMaxx and brought a Frozen gift bag to 'wrap' it in. I avoided any of those number cards since we weren't too sure and when I asked the Baby he was very little help on the matter!
I couldn't convince the Belgian to leave the sofa (and by extension his laptop and Championship Manager - 'you're not really a football manager dear!') and so we pulled up in the car park (next to an abandoned sofa - I kid you not!) flying solo. They took ages to buzz us in (as always) apparently having a child still makes you suspicious in these types of places.
Once inside the Baby knows the drill and was straight into the ball pit and charging down the slide head first. I, luckily, recognised the birthday girl as she was in a flamboyant party dress. She also grabbed the present from me and had it open and was playing with it in about thirty seconds flat. (See picture above!) Perhaps this is the difference between girls and boys!
The babies were supposed to be playing in the under threes bit, but the Baby loves to break the rules. I had committed a mum fail as I wasn't wearing socks and so had to chase after him barefoot. We'd only been there ten minutes when he fell down a step and banged his head and was crying his eyes out. The other mum's were very sympathetic and perhaps were shocked by my blase he does it all the time attitude. But he really does. I was cursing the Belgian at this point. Clearly leading a third division team into victory was far more important.
It was also apparent that most of the guests at the party were Polish and I felt silly for not realising that the names on the invite were Polish. Just as the tantruming tots and hollering hooligans reached a deafening pitch a siren sounded announcing "Will Anja's party please come to the party door?" It sounded very ominous. We were ushered upstairs and there was a huge horseshoe shaped table laid out with all the fried food a tot could dream of. The Baby was very close to meltdown and if it wasn't for that platter of lukewarm fries I doubt he would have stayed, quietly, in his seat.
The Baby was pretty shocked at the numbing vanilla ice-cream, but he came back for seconds only to go through the whole spectrum of emotions again. They were getting restless again - one of the tots shut his finger in the door, another was having a full on paddy as she wanted ketchup on her ice-cream and the birthday girl took a swat at the Baby. So he threw himself, rather dramatically, onto the floor.
We were saved by the bell and they announced, "Anja's party back in the pool pond." Oh no! I'd had enough of chasing the Baby down rainbow slides and bumped heads and so we made our excuses and left with his first ever party bag and helium balloon. We were just out of the car park when I spotted this in my rear view mirror...
Clearly someone had had too much fun and he now has a bruise and a battered slice of birthday cake to show for it!
Till next time hey...?