Momedy Sketch: I'm not sorry it's over!

It was Finny's birthday party today, so I spent most of the morning trying to create Diego in the form of sugar and fat. He turned out looking like the cross between a ghoulish Halloween mask and a Salvador Dali painting.

Po Diego.

At one point I was honestly quite afraid that his face might cause recurrent nightmares for the sweet little boys who were soon to devour it. I tend to lose perspective after an hour or so hunched over an increasingly less recognizable hunk of baked goods with icing all over my hands (and everything else. Curse you black food colouring. Curse you I say!)

But then sweet Finny ran in, jumped on a chair to inspect my handiwork, and cried, "Diego!" as if he was meeting his long lost Hispanic cousin in an airport arrival lounge and I felt some small comforting sense that it everything might be alright after all.

So have I mentioned that I am so lame at entertaining young children? Well I am. This is why I have provided all of mine with multiferous siblings. (I put my two years in with Benjamin before back-up arrived, and that's where it ends, people).

But four year old boys are really quite endearing in their ability to get very excited over pretty much anything if you describe it in an animated enough voice. As an aside, I just about died trying to suppress my laughter when Finny tried to get his friend excited about a toy that was not the one Finny had just received and was therefore hesitant to share. He was all, "*gasp* oh my goodness Tato! Look at this awesome (ancient beat up totally un-fun fire-truck), you can play with THIS!" Oh how quickly they learn the tricks of the trade, yet still fall for them. Strange that.

ANYWAY, we managed to keep them lurching along from one restrainedly fun activity to the next moderately fun activity for the requisite two hours without hearing the dreaded, "I'm booooooooored". (That comes when they turn 5, when they can articulate their emotions better).

I have also noted in my many years as a kids party throwing veteran, that my children inevitably have the least fun of any other child there. (Isn't that usually true of the host though?)

For one thing, they usually begin the experience sleep deprived, usually from being too excited to sleep the night before. Last night though, it was just because their negligent mother was so engrossed with chatting to her visiting friend, that she forgot to put them to bed until about 11pm. (And up at 8:30am for soccer.) So that's always a good start. Then there's the sugar and the stress of trying to protect your newly acquired loot from the marauding masses (aka the people who just graciously bestowed said loot upon you). And stuff like that. So I really must wonder why I persist in throwing these fantastic bashes. But, not un-like the original Birth days, one forgets and soon enough we are all smiling mistily over the photos and romanticizing the glory of it all for the rest of the year, so I suppose that makes it worth it.

He did have quite a few moments of glee actually.

The siblings also come in handy as high energy party co-ordinating assistants. (They are endeavouring to be monkeys here, in case you were concerned)

The Benevolent Dictator administers bubbles to the peasants for their popping pleasure.

Trepidation...

Triumph

I love you man. It is not every day you receive a bug collecting jar thingie that lights up from a friend. He was moved.

And....it's done. Just one more to go for the 2 year apart twins. I'm thinking....we go somewhere...and...we buy the cake. 'Cos 8 and 10 year olds generally say nothing but "I'm boooored". And I just don't think I can cope with the rejection.