Another day, another party!
Yesterday it was Evan's, you may remember, which was a kind of rehearsal for today's Main Event
– the Duracell Bunny's second birthday party. Fortunately for us the sun shone all day which meant that the whole party could take place in the garden – quite perfect. You will be pleased to hear (those of you who read yesterday's blog) that nobody
mentioned the “c” word (as in “cement”) all day. No, today was the Day of the Water Pistols. Our younger guests had all been advised to bring their bathers and an impressive sight they were. Adults, if they were sensible, kept well
out of the way. My favourite water pistol moment was when Young Morgan spurted water into his own face. His look of pained astonishment was a sight to behold – I wish, oh I wish, I could have captured it on video.
Earlier in the day, before we hurled ourselves into party mode, James read to me from his school reading book. The story was all about a boy called Tiger who thought his pet cat led a dull life until
he (Tiger, not the cat) shrunk (I know, I know, I didn't quite understand that bit either but sometimes you just have to go with the flow) and discovered that his cat, Moggy, was actually involved in all manner of exciting feline activities. On one page, for
example, Moggy jumped off a wall and, according to the book “landed on his feet.” James was disdainful. “Cats don't have feet!” he protested, “They have PAWS!” I think he has a great future as a fearless literary critic.
After that we went to the toy store to buy Young Morgan a birthday present. The idea was that we would let him loose among all the ridealongs, scooters and such-like and
buy whichever one he seemed most taken by. Which was a good plan in principle but didn't work in practice because the only toy Morgan took a fancy to was one of those table football games meant for children a good six years older than him. At least. Hopefully
when he unwraps his present tomorrow (no, it's not the table football game – like Morgan, you will just have to wait until tomorrow to find out) he will be pleased with it. He will certainly like the paper it is wrapped in which he chose himself, along
with his Mickey Mouse birthday balloon. One could say that the Duracell Bunny knows his own mind.
I love birthday
parties. I was on Balloon Duty, as in blowing them up, stringing them together and pinning them up in places where the holes created by the drawing pins wouldn't show. I was under strict instructions about the holes created by drawing pins. My “Morgan
is Two” banner looked fabulous, except that the “M” kept being hidden behind the door whenever anyone left it open. This meant, of course, that most of the time my banner read: “ORGAN IS TWO”. Nobody commented on it, they were
all far too polite.
The sun shone, the food was delicious, the kids had a whale of a time. The birthday cake, baked and decorated by the Darling Daughter in Law,
was truly magnificent and I was able to practise singing Happy Birthday in Welsh as the boys had given me a quick lesson earlier in the day. I did have to resort to la-la-la-ing a few bars but I expect I will improve with time and practice.
The guests all departed by about 7 p.m., conscious that tomorrow is, after all, a school day – and then it was bath and bedtime for our three Little Welsh Boys. To bed –
but not necessarily to sleep.
It's 9 p.m. and, even as I type, the Duracell Bunny – true to form – is wide awake.
Run, rabbit, run....