I think it was Martin Luther King Jr who famously said:
“Three at last, three at last!” “Thank God Almighty we are three at last”
Well, something like that, anyway.
So Missy turned three. It was a day full of the agony and the ecstasy. A day of cake fuelled fun, all done at warp speed. Little friends running riot – playing, hitting, laughing and hugging. And it ended in a train smash of over-tired, post sugar-rush meltdown.
Just an average three-year-olds birthday party, really.
“Three”, it seems to me, is the birthday that children, well Missy certainly, are totally aware of. They know what birthdays mean (presents and chocolate cake) and in the weeks leading up to the event, can even be reined in somewhat with idle threats insisting only good girls get birthday treats. Mind you, I am not too sure what would happen if she had called my bluff.
But with Mum leading the charge, the party was spectacular. Balloons galore and a lovingly crafted home made princess cake set the scene for a fabulous time. The theme was “P”, primarily because Missy desperately wanted to be a princess. So with a dress Cinderella would have been proud to wear to the ball, our little girl entertained her friends.
As the Father of ‘Cinders’, I was in charge of making sure there was beer for the lads, and champagne for the lasses (those over 18, of course). My other role was to entertain a bakers dozen or so group of kids, while my wife engaged in some food preparation. As a writer, it was assumed I could rustle up a one-man-show kids play, Arthur Miller style.
After several attempts at a script, I realized kids plays are not my thing. Still, the crowd of three year-olds was decidedly forgiving as I put on a puppet show; based loosely on Three Billy Goats Gruff; only mine had a lamb, horse, cow, elephant and a pirate. Well, when they’re the puppets you have, you just have to improvise.
The kids actually got quite into it, an as the noise level went up, the inadequacy of my puppetry skills and dialogue deficiency was disguised in a cacophony of shrieking children. Well, I think they were squeals of delight. Maybe they were hoots of derision? Who ever heard of an elephant in Three Billy Goats Gruff? “This bloke’s a joke!”
For me, the highlights of the event were the hand made cake Mum made, cakes made with love just taste better; and my daughter, who when told Mum and Dad were dressing up as Panda’s (well, we do live in China) asked if daddy could come as a prince instead. “Then we can get married”, a little voice announced.
I have been to the mountaintop.