Panic at the Children’s Disco

Our first children’s party – as parents.

A very good friend of ours invited us to a party for his son’s 3rd birthday. The venue was in a lovely function room above a lovely pub in Canonbury.

There’s been little opportunity for us be part of a social network of parents. So me and F. saw this Sunday afternoon slot between 2:30 and 5:30 as a rare opportunity to observe parenting en masse. And party etiquette. We took notes.

My first observation is that there seems to be a dichotomy when organising a children’s party. At its centre is a child, plus friends. But the parents’ presence means that adults have to be catered for too. Which turns the party into a standing about, milling kind of event. Like a wedding; kids running between a forest of legs.

If I’m to be organising these shindigs for V. in a couple of years, perhaps I should have turned up in time to catch the children’s entertainer and got his card. I heard he was good.

Back home, V.’s party bag was raided by her mum and dad. We shared her tiny Toy Story chocolate bar. I then mercilessly crunched through her Chuppa Chup before practising with her new plastic tin whistle. She was asleep.

So, no real panic and not really a disco. I just liked the title.

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