You know what? Hosting small children's birthday parties is, on a smaller scale, like childbirth. Every time, I collapse in a heap afterwards thinking "Thank gods that's over, remind me never to do it again." Every time, the passage of time conveniently erases my resolution, and I rashly agree to have another go; then as the Fateful Day
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The Small Persons were hideously overtired and overexcited so neither got to sleep till nearly 9 pm, thus delaying my collapse with large chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc much later than I would have liked, but are now unconscious and if there is any justice in the world will stay that way till at least 7 tomorrow morning....
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The most memorable party we had was for our son when he was seven, and dad dressed up in a gorilla suit and stole the cake. We hadn't realised how terrified Small Daughter would be!
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Oh no! It is tricky, juggling the requirements of smaller siblings. Fortunately Second Small Person was more than happy to caper about the hall with a balloon most of the time.
First Small Person's nursery used to get visits from Father Christmas (usually the Vice-Chancellor, who had the perfect white beard) but had to restrict them to the 3s-and-up, because the babies used to find it too scary!
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Will try and get round to uploading and posting stegosaurus-cake piccies tonight!
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