I have been singing my own version of that foot-tapping anthem from the show Sweet Charity. You know the one - it’s called The Rhythm of Life.
My version goes as follows:
Glitter in the bedroom
Glitter on the stairs
Glitter in the kitchen
Glitter on the chairs!
Yes, indeed, our whole house is a-glitter
and may well remain so for months, following yesterday’s most welcome visit by two of the Darling Daughters and the Trio of Rampaging Rascals, two of whom were excitedly celebrating their fourth birthday, second time around. You know, I am sure, what
I am about to say: why celebrate your birthday once, when you could celebrate it twice?
Blame for the Glitterfest could hardly be laid at the door of the Birthday
Girls. It was, after all, I who had chosen the dressing up clothes - Princess Belle for Lilia, Ariel the Mermaid for Tala - as their main present from their Grandad and me. I can’t say I wasn’t warned either: when I read the on-line reviews of
my chosen purchases, every single one mentioned the Glitter Effect but I chose to ignore them, so happy I was with the thought of my two Happy Birthday Princesses. Add a pair of matching slippers each and two Hush-a-Bye knitted dolls (one dressed in pink,
the other in mauve) and I was One Contented Grandmother.
Then I remembered that I had not factored in an Unbirthday Present for Faris the Rascal or a birthday
cake which, given my current one-armed, still-recovering status, posed a bit of a problem. I solved this, as Santa would undoubtedly have done, by employing the services of a Helpful Elf. Also known as the Youngest of the Darling Daughters who once again helped
me out of a hole.
I did confess to The Rascal that I had needed the assistance of an Elf. He seemed quite impressed but needed to know a lot more about my Magical
Helper. “What makes you think my Elf is a he?” I asked him finally (well, I’d answered eight questions on the trot, all of them starting with that annoyingly interrogative word much loved by five year olds: “Why?) Faris didn’t
condescend to answer what he clearly considered a silly question. The Youngest of the Darling Daughters and I looked at each other with matching raised eyebrows.
could be lovelier than a birthday celebration - and how lucky I am that we have so many to enjoy in our family. My little princesses trailed around all afternoon in their glittery outfits while Young Faris, assisted by his beloved Kazza (aka the Y of the DD),
put his present of Lego City wild river escape vehicles together. I would have helped, you understand, but I was hindered by what the Trio call my “Robot Sling.” There was a police boat, steered by a police officer, and a kind of raft, propelled
by what my Welsh Boys would call “the Bad Guy” who was accompanied (inexplicably) by a skunk. The Rascal took great delight in graphically demonstrating the unusual olfactory properties of the skunk - but fortunately minus the actual, well, stinky
We played games, ate pizza and salad, acted out several Tweenies stories (we own all the characters including Doodles the dog, with Noddy and Big Ears
thrown in for good measure and variety) and then the caterpillar cake, adorned with eight candles - four for each twin - was brought in with all due ceremony. Inevitably the Usher Gene kicked in big-time, watching those glowing faces, candle-lit, as we sang
the age-old birthday theme. The Twins, of course, had no time for sentiment, intent on blowing out the candles almost before we trilled the last note.
I see the Trio, it will be Christmas Eve and excitement was already reaching great heights yesterday as they discussed sleeping arrangements. The Middle of the Darling Daughters will be in charge of Christmas Dinner but we have agreed that, with not only the
Rascally Trio but also her Troublesome Parents to contend with, we will opt for Christmas-Made-Easy. Whatever the Delightful Nigella may say, it’s always, but always, the Company That Counts.
I have been following the Twinkles’ glitter trail all over the house - tell-tale evidence that they visited every single room in the house over the course of their short visit; that they jumped on beds, explored cupboards,
rearranged the ornaments on many a windowsill - the glitter, you see, does not lie. Should proof be needed, I have it.
Though I prefer to think of it as a sparkly,
glittering reminder of yet another Most Special Day.