Rock and Roll all night and party every day (II)

Three.
The boy is three.
No, we can't believe it either.

But the boy could, and hence he announced to all and sundry that he would be having a party "just like Dash!" (Dash being his best friend. Well, unless he has declared someone else his best friend for the day.)

And he declared who would be attending.
"Aaron, Dash 'he's my best friend!', Baden, Ashley, Ava, Lily, Maladyn (actually Madelyn, but we dare any practising speech pathologist to get the boy to say it right), Mitchell, Owen, Archie, Georgie, Josh, Inge, Joseph..."

"What about {insert name not on list here}?" suggested mum.

"No."

Ooookaaaayyyy then...

The day started well enough - though arguably a bit frantic - with grandparents and Mistress P on food duty and dad on cake purchasing and "get the boy to have a goddamn sleep or we'll all be in BIG trouble" responsibilities.

The latter involved whisking him off to the local pool for a toss about in the surf (the place has a wave machine; yes, we know, massive greenhouse footprint and all that. Hey, everyone's entitled to get a root on their birthday - in the boys case it was of the planet) and a slow drive home in a warm and cosy car.
Always does the trick.
Even for dad.

The visit to the pool also presented the first age-associated conundrum.
Kids under three - free.
Kids three and over - $2.70.
(Adults $5.50)

In they walked.

"Just here for a swim" offered dad to the nice lady on the desk as he handed over a tenner.
"That'll be $8.20 thanks" she said. "Oh - how old is the boy?"
Dad pondered momentarily.
"He.. was... three... yesterday..." he grumbled.
"Happy Birthday!" exclaimed the woman to Master M.
"And here's your $1.80 change sir."
"Thanks..."
Dang nabbit.
The free lunch is over.

The party itself was all cheer and good wishes and presents of an embarrassingly generous nature. (We now realise how cheap we are- sorry everyone we've ever attended a party of.) As of Saturday, the Baghdad end of Hampton has become the Lightning McQueen capital of the free world, with a fair dash of Thomas the Tank Engine and even Chuggington thrown in for good measure.

There can't be a toy shop in greater Melbourne not in severe animated cartoon character deficit.

This of course meant that the boy was, and remains, like a pig in poo.
And not just because of the chocolate icing smeared all over his face.

Of course there was the mandatory cake with candles, which refused to light in the seabreeze. Which is a bit of a bugger when you have to do it several times for all the little-uns to have a go at blowing out.

Candle-blowing was followed by a few rather tuneless renditions of Happy Birthday, though (thankfully?) dad had had a couple too many and forgot to do a speech (he argues he didn't forget and that it was a party for the kids, so speeches weren't necessary. Some may argue if that was the case, neither was his beer.)

Come closing time, Master M was doling out kitty-cute goodbye hugs and kisses with all his mates - which in reality may just have been a police-line pat down to ensure none were skiving off with one of his Lighting McQueen characters down their pull-ups - and all was declared a big success.

No fights.
No tears (well, maybe one or two when some realised it wasn't their birthday...).
No spewing.
Ticked all the boxes really.

Plus mum and dad had bribed the folks at work to turn on a pearler of a 27°C autumn day, foregoing the thrill of watching kiddies, parents and family flirt with hypothermia, as occurred at the lads first birthday.

Granted, there was one downside; namely Mike's bottom.

Or rather, its ability, late in the party day, to produce farts of stunning (literally) stink.

"Its probably been the crazy mix of foods he's been eating today" someone opined.
"No it isn't" piped up the boy, "I've just eaten cake!"

And so he had.
As you should on your birthday.

The Boy is three.
Wow.

Addendum:
1) The party also coincided with Mistress P's big four oh. Mike, ever the gentleman, allowed her a candle blow out and Happy Birthday rendition (one only).

2) Little Miss S survived the day on only one sleep (she normally likes to get in two to three) and a concerted raid on the fairy bread. Yes. We know. Hundreds and thousands are possibly not exactly on the prescribed baby food list. Can't stop the party girl.

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