Aggressively Competitive Partying

‘Oh darling we must throw a party for our dear son’s 5th birthday!’ I said to my husband as he lay sprawled out on the sofa scratching distractedly at the chest hair under his shirt.

‘Sure we’ll just do the bouncy castle and a few sausage rolls like we did last year.’ he replied not taking his eyes from Ice Road Truckers.

I staggered backwards (part shock, part Pinot Grigio).

‘You CANNOT be serious!!!!!!!’ I retorted, completely appalled.

‘That was BEFORE he was in school!!!!! Now we have to COMPETE to be the BEST birthday party throwing parents EVER because then we will obviously love our children the most and be the MOST successful and educational and SUPERIOR parents in all the land!’ I cried.

‘Did you know Sarah’s parents installed an Olympic-sized swimming pool in their house for HER party???!!!? AND James’ parents built an extension so they could have the ENTIRE class partake in wigwam building with the expert they flew in from Venezuela!!!

We are NOT doing a bouncy castle and sausage rolls!

Can you Google caterers and make a start on ordering 5,660 canapés?!’ I urged.

‘Yes I KNOW there are only 26 in his class but I will not have Noah’s mother calling us cheap. Once, after Eleanor’s party, I heard her remark to Isobelle’s mum that she was DISGUSTED that they’d run out of Champagne and had to serve WHITE WINE of all things! Imagine!!!

After canapés I thought we could move on to a fun but extremely educational activity. That’ll impress the other mums and we can pretend that we are very educational and forward thinking like this all of the time.

Could we factor in some way of showing we care for the environment too? I feel like that might be a good angle – Toby’s birthday party was talked about for weeks afterwards because his mum had ordered eco-friendly reusable straws made from the vines of Japanese Wisteria and they had built a rustic wooden hut over the compost heap to serve as a composting toilet for the occasion. It was a huge success. Everyone was terribly impressed.’

‘Maybe get a piñata?’ suggested my husband weakly.

‘Oh please no. Don’t you remember Arthur’s party with the piñata?

The children began to BEAT each other with the bat and a riot broke out between the parents. Jonny clubbed Arthur and then Arthur’s mum blurted out that she didn’t expect a child from only the SECOND highest reading group to know any better and you would never catch HER beloved child acting on violent tendencies as HE was in the TOP reading group and was already enrolled in the NASA Space Program with a view to space travel in 2051.

The Police had to be called in the end.

An ambulance too if I remember right

because Belinda’s mum tried to get involved but caught her Pandora bracelet on Arthur’s mum’s Accessorize tassel earrings and ripped half her ear off. To be honest I saw it coming. Those earrings were far too youthful for a 30-something mum to be wearing. She’s trying to be one of these ‘yummy mummies’ but I’ll not lie, she has an arse that looks like a potato sack filled with water and curdled cheese.’

Husband had moved his gaze from the TV and was now looking at me with a peculiar expression on his face. It might have been an IBS flare-up, or maybe fear, hard to tell.

‘And as for the party bags…’ I continued undeterred, ‘…we need to beat Sam’s party bags. His dad owns a Peugeot dealership so everyone got a Peugeot 108 home with them. Built in sat nav and all. I know we could never compete with that but I thought perhaps we could throw in an iPhone 8…and a packet of Haribo too as a witty nod to the fact we’re posh but like to stay connected to the cultural snacks of commoners!’

Husband stared at me blankly. ‘So do I get the sausage rolls or not?’ he asked finally.

Without answering I took myself off to the kitchen with the iPad and a rather generous glass of wine to research flamethrowers and a remortgage.

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