So Middle F has reached a new milestone, the boy turned 3. Due to freezing February weather we plumped for a soft play party.
Following 14 days of “It’s my party today” and “No darling it’s not” the time had finally arrived. Two days leading up to the day Middle F was ill, high temperatures and a general feeling of clearly feeling shite, poor chap. However on party morn he seemed a little chirpier and his temperature had gone down, happy days.
After churning out sandwiches and marmite rolls (complete with marmite smeared down Little B’s head) the carb buffet was ready. Big T decided that each dish needed a label with a Fireman Sam theme. Together with Nanny S they got as far as ‘Sam’s sandwiches’.
Nanny S asks if there are any characters beginning with the letter ‘C’ to go with the cucumber, crisps or cake? No there aren’t. Other than Sam are there any characters beginning with ‘S’ for the sausages? No there aren’t. Big T says we could have ‘Radar’s Roast Dinner’ or ‘Radar’s Rice’ Hmmm yes we could, only roast dinner and rice are not on the buffet menu today. Looking back we could have had ‘Station Officer Steel’s’ sausages and ‘Charlie’s cucumber’, we wouldn’t have had to settle for ‘Trevor’s Tasty Sausage’ and ‘Elvis’ Electric Cucumber’ after all.
When ready to depart Middle F didn’t want to go. He’d had a snooze which typically made him more grumpy than he was before having a sleep. Upon arrival we quickly unloaded the food and together with Big T he went off to play. Friends started to arrive and the birthday boy spent the first chunk of time ignoring guests and staring longingly at the buffet cart. Everyone wanted to be there apart from the guest of honour himself. Classic.
Thankfully didn’t take long to return to the soft play frame and have the time of his life.
Attempted to do a family photo which resulted in the back of Middle F’s head facing the camera along with Big T pulling faces to imitate a naked mole rat and Little B looking like a grumpy little thing with the gentle fluorescent lighting reflecting off his baldie head.
Thought the birthday cake resisted a little when I pushed in the first candle to realise I’d shoved it in wick first, thankfully spotted before lighting the plastic and letting the toxic fumes fill the child filled room…
Bang on time at the end of the party the heavies moved in and started to manically Hoover and mop around guests still departing as Middle F was feeling very sad about the fact that all his guests and him were given a nice book instead of a party bag. How would he survive without his bag of miniature, choking hazard crap which often ends up being filed in the area labelled B1N??? (thank you to all who have previously given my kids party bags though as they obviously love them!)
Homeward bound, returning to a continual overdose of Paw Patrol Winter version, which is basically the same strange as hell rescues as Paw Patrol summer version just with snow falling in the background (I refuse to believe that Zuma would actually be able to single handedly pull a walrus from the sea) Still, they say a change is as good as a rest so always beneficial to mix it up a little.
We soon returned to conversations of willies and ‘butt butt’ so could relax in the knowledge that nobody’s cracking sense of humour and interest in male genitalia had been lost throughout the day. Phew.
Sucessful day all round I think.