In the midst of birthday season, I invited them-what-matters to my house today for a generic birthday celebration. This week because there would have been too many absences last week, the weather was unforgiving and a little because I care a lot more than the boys do. They like presents, who is present is of no matter to them at all.
So we hads ourselves a mini party. In which I fretted about the tidiness of my house, ending up with one unenterable room, (I so need an upstairs) and my family and closest friends visited, bearing - ace - gifts, to be rewarded with poncy tiny versions of food and a party bag.
Yes. A party bag. Children present were mine, a 12 year old and a 1 year old. Everyone got party bags bar he-who-scoffed who then complained. Everyone except the 12 year old, the baby and the scoffer seemed very pleased. We have a surplus of leftover Haribo.
Not a party in terms of there being a lack of music or any form of entertainment or games. More of an "at home". Yah.
I love having people round. It's better than any other type of socialising. Except maybe going out for lunch. Maybe.
Sunday, 10 January 2010
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1 comment:
You could send surplus Haribo to Richard Herring. He's mad for them.
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