I take it back. I said it would be chaos, but I take it back. Unconditionally and unabashedly. The Sunday night drinks and dinner party was an unqualified success. We had nine families on the guest list. One was out of town (sorely missed) another was down with viral (sad, but inevitable in this weather; one family out of ten could be considered better than par) and a third said they would come early (ugh! We were scurrying around till the last moment as usual) and then never showed up at all and without a word of explanation either.
So we had six families apart from us, which meant 10 kids. As soon as the number of kids reached critical mass (four) things picked up pace and went rapidly out of control, with decibels exceeding safe limits and toys, gifts and associated litter exceeding total available floor space.
It was chaos, but the good sort of chaos. Children were screaming, but mostly with laughter. Adults were relaxing, mostly with drinks. The food arrived on time, and was not just enough, but roughly double of what was required. The cakes were cut at 8.30 and were not just enough, but quite delicious to boot. I had made the Best Ever Fudge Cake, a recipe I found in a book about two decades ago and have made only 3-4 times since. It really is the best ever, though it’s a long and complicated cake to make. The second cake was vanilla with chocolate butter icing. (I suppose there are photos somewhere, but I was too busy to notice whether anyone was shooting and if so who.)
Dinner was served at 9.30, but all the kids were having too much fun to be bothered with food. They were (forcibly) carted off at 10.30, while they were still having a whale of a time, by parents who were worried about the next day being a working/pre-school/daycare day and about the potential adverse consequences of kids being up late, in most cases way past their usual bedtime.
We put the twins to bed at almost 11, and spent an hour trying to restore some parts of the house. Then we went to bed, slept a few hours, got up, and geared up for the twins’ birthday.
Their gifts included a pretty pink tricycle, a small electronic keyboard, pretty pink frocks, and two identical car seats that we somehow managed to get and install over Saturday and Sunday.
We all spent the morning unwrapping the previous evening’s gifts, and gobbling large chunks of leftover cake. The next thing we knew, it was 3 p.m. And we hadn’t done a thing for the tea-party. Amit was despatched post haste to obtain cakes and patties, while I replenished the balloon stock (oh, yeah, we had streamers and balloons all over the living room; inspiration, motivation, and implementation were provided by Amit, while lung power for the balloons was almost entirely mine), dressed the kids and self, laid out paper plates and crisps and generally tried to organise a party sort of atmosphere.
This second, smaller party was almost as loud and swinging as the first, despite that all kids bar one were younger than the twins. Nobody did serious bodily harm to anybody else and apparently a good time was had by all. It was past 7 when return gifts were handed out and the party dispersed, leaving behind a scene of complete and total destruction and devastation. The second in two days.
Well, the twins only turn two once in their lives. And thank goodness for that! Next year, it will be different. And no, there won’t be three parties. No way. No. NO!