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Then, it’s playtime. No party will pass without Pass the Parcel, where paper is ripped, presenting layer after layer of little gifts, so no one will feel left out. There is, often, a bouncy castle.
Only towards the very end, tea is served. A birthday tea of white and brown triangles, cheese, ham, jam and marmite. No peanut butter, there might be an allergy. Bowls of carrot sticks, cucumber, crisps and sausages. Pitchers of squash. While the kids fill up on the soft inside of the bread, the mothers watch. Who grabs a carrot that the kids won’t touch can expect avoiding looks. After tea the highlight of the party is brought in. The Cake. Home baked, off course, by any self-respecting mum. After Happy Birthday the cake disappears mysteriously. At the door it is handed out, rolled in a napkin, in a colourful plastic bag filled with sweets and cheap plastic toys, that will hover round the house for a few days until reaching their final destination, the bin.
As a foreigner I was going to do it differently. I thought. Well, I did not want to risk my son’s social status, so I invited all his friends. And more, I realised when I added up numbers. And actually, maybe we should intercept those presents at the door as well. We did hold the feast at home, keeping our fingers crossed that the weather would allow overspill in the garden. After some cursing and swearing at the oven and sticky moulds a few shop bought pound cakes, with the help of eighteen small children, five colours of icing and many, many sweets, transformed in a colourful train with pretty messy carriages. The sun made an appearance and the garden hosted bag and egg races while the mothers made their own tea and ate home baked muffins. During the baking of eighteen pizza’s dressed by as many children a puppet show was staged where Sinterklaas played Father Christmas. At the door no-one was disappointed when they did not get a bag but a book. With on top their own carriage, rolled in a napkin, because we forgot to serve the cake in the merry chaos. We sang Happy Birthday and Lang zal hij leven and it was the best party on either side of the Channel. Said Tijm.
The English mothers complimented, extensively. The Dutch mother flopped down on the sofa and dreamt of soft play area’s with bouncy castles and little white triangles that required no baking.
Your description of English parties is spot on! I don't know yet how I will approach it as my little girl is not yet 5 months old, but like you, I reckon I will not do it quite the English way. 2 things I truly do not understand, the 'cake in a napkin' thing (I want to eat the cake NOW!!!) and the present giving by the organiser to the kids who have come.
ReplyDeleteOh dear, another cultural minefield to look forward to...
You'll be fine frog, as long as the kids have fun the parents will be fine. I just did a very terrible thing though, as I was posting this, Tijm was supposed to be at a party of some quite good friends. But... I forgot!! What kind of mum am I? I feel really bad, for Tijm, but also the others kids and especially his mum (who is so lovely)
ReplyDeleteSounds like the perfect party and you my friend, deserve an award for your efforts! Dix points
ReplyDeleteNow I have discovered your English Blog. It is amazing how many blogwriting you produce. I think I'm glad to live in Holland regarding Birthday Party's. I really don't get the cake-in-napkin part and I think the best way to celebrate with small children is at home. What would you otherwise do with the 10+, they will be so spoiled.
ReplyDeleteI did the same for my daughters 1st birthday. Instead of the usual toys i actually bought a book each from the pound store and wrote a dedication. Ah and i served the cake at the party too.
ReplyDeletethank you for stopping by and link it up xxx
Hey i cannot find you on twitter?
ReplyDeleteSorry, have no twitter. You can find me on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kamel/259014380814732
ReplyDelete