I have a really romantic view about taking my child to a festival. The reality is very different. She is of course bored by the time we reach 2 meters past the entrance, but I persevere and blow up and air lounger which entertains her for approximately 5seconds because she has her own personal bouncy castle. But, after she has fallen into 10 people and knocked over five drinks, it’s time to put it away. This will carry on for approximately five hours while I try and drink a pint of cider and watch a band.
I have however found a real advantage to having a 4 year old at one of these gatherings. The queue for the loo was about 200 people strong and not going down very quickly. With a little girl covered in glitter bouncing from one foot to another, shouting “I neeeed a weeeeee!” and “It’s gonna come out!” it’s amazing how many people let you in front of them. We were at the front and looking for a cubicle within 20 seconds and from then on I took her to the toilet with me whether she wanted to go or not.
Shout it from the rooftops this is bigger than Coronation Day in Frozen Arundelle! Hang out the bunting, get a brass band to play at the party and let’s do a conga! I’ve only gone and got myself a big girl that stays in her bed all night! I feel like a different woman!
For two years now my daughter has got out of her own bed, snuck into my bedroom and got in the other side of where I’m sleeping. Last night she didn’t, last night she went all the way through. So of course when I woke up at 4 AM I had to go and check on her to make sure that she was okay. It feels like a totally different era already.
Let’s see how long it lasts, how long it takes before she remembers the comfortable warm slumber she gets beside me and I get a 4 year olds toe up my nose whilst catching zeds. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
I’ve just got back from the weirdest Sunday afternoon ever, I’m just back from a rave! Ha no I didn’t think I’d be saying that at my age and with a 4 year old in tow, but it was fantastic, a family rave. All the old cheesy quavers (ravers) from back in the day still love all those tunes that they heard in the middle of a field, but now they’re hitting middle age and don’t really get out dancing anymore (I’m judging by my own standards) so, anyway, those ravers are still there and these family raves are for them, but this time around they take their kids with them and wear more comfortable shoes.
At lunchtime on a Sunday there was a queue of people to get into a nightclub in town. I could hear the thud of the bass and was immediately transported back to a farm where someone had set up a sound system, what a wonderful trip down memory lane. And to have my 4 year old there, loving the tunes, the lights and carrying glow sticks was both emotional and hilarious. I’d already tried to educate her about house music and she dances to it with her hands in the air like she’s holding up the roof.
Every time a new song dropped all the people over 4ft tall let out a whoop and had big smiles, the kids thought it was ace to just be inside a nightclub and with glitter cannons and bubbles too, dreams were made today.
I can’t really believe that even before my daughter is 4, we are already in a birthday party war. The competition is real. You can’t let your little darling down by just giving them a birthday tea with a couple of mates, who they will row with over a My Little Pony anyway. Oh no, we’re going all out now. Spend less than hundreds of pounds and prepare to feel judged to be the worst mother ever. A shop-bought cake will be frowned upon, but you haven’t tasted anything I’ve cooked myself and I would rather not have 25 kids with food poisoning. If I’m honest, I feel quite posh booking a hall and an entertainer, real “keeping up with the jones’” stuff, but I know people who would book an actual castle and Mr Tumble if available.
I’ve made a list of all the food to get, just sausage rolls and party rings, then I heard a suggestion that I should cater for the adults too, you’re kidding right? They can scoff a jam sandwich if there’s any left. And of course you can’t leave without a party bag, a slice of cake and a bottle of bubbles in my day, now resembling an Oscars goodie bag, with a personal shopping trip and a holiday to the Caribbean included. I’m just trying to make it the best party in the world.
Let’s just have a little conversation about this woman who has tried to charge another mother £325 after a pair of boots got pen on them at a play date. Whaaaat? I’ve got too many questions, like why is a little girl wearing such expensive shoes if you’re going to be so prissy about it? Poor little mite apparently had some other shoes to wear outside in a bag with her, but the red footwear was “ruined” after she wore them to go and play. The three year old was probably so excited to go in the garden with her mates that she didn’t think about the consequences, of course she didn’t, she’s 3!
There’s no kid in the world that doesn’t like going outside and getting muddy, so why not put them in cheap clothes or do what I do with my daughter when she’s caked in dirt from a run around the woods, strip her off beside the washing machine and chuck it all straight in. (I’d put little un in too if I could.)
Would you be annoyed if your child came home dirty? Would you stop them wearing shoes outside because they’re too expensive?
I would suggest that she would be better off buying a doll that she can dress up and I will carry on putting my girl in the £10 outfit. And if we’re going to charge people for damage to property then I think I probably owe my mates a fair whack.
Yes, we did go out and have a few drinkies. Yes, I was sipping prossecco when little one fell asleep on my mates sofa. Yes, we did finish our game of trivial pursuit. No, I can’t see the floor for my little ponies and Disney princesses. And yes, we are having pizza for breakfast.
I’m disgusted at myself. I’ve wrapped up the gifts that I’ve been buying since July, for Christmas, stood back and looked at the heap of presents and felt quite sick. There was so much stuff. Ok, I don’t think I’ve spent that much, it’s all little bits, but it created a metallic Father Christmas mountain. I don’t want her to become a spoiled brat though, I may have wrapped up a toy shop catalogue as it’s the book that my 3 year old daughter enjoys the most (and it gets her through a long car journey). But the end result is something I’m not very proud of, so I’ve put half of it back in the cupboard for her birthday.
Last year, I thought, “right, she’s 2, she’s really going to understand the magic of it all this year!” And went to town on bits for under the tree. She didn’t. It took her ten days to open everything, I’d gone back to work before that last piece of wrapping paper was ripped off the last present. You see, faced with 3 toys or games to play with, my girl looks confused, can’t cope with the decision, gets totally overwhelmed and ends up playing with a tiny bit of blue tack which was holding a greetings card on the fireplace. Next year it’ll be 3 packets of that on my letter to Santa.