Forget that middle son is due at a birthday party on Saturday afternoon, minutes before said party is due to begin. “We haven’t got a present,” I panic. “We need to improvise.”
“What about making a telescope using the cardboard cylinder from the clingfilm?” suggests Husband on a Short Fuse. “I knew that years of Blue Peter would pay off one day.”
“Impossible. Last year our present cost less than the party bag.” Then I have one of those eureka moments and run upstairs to fetch a volcano kit from middle son’s bedroom.
“But that was one of his best birthday presents,” says Husband on a Short Fuse.
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“I’ll get another one. He’ll never know,” I say.
We arrive at the party just 15 minutes late. But as I walk through the door of Yummy Mummy No 1’s home, I realise that this is the present she gave middle son for his birthday less than two weeks ago. We go into a huge sitting room and I sit on the sofa while middle son joins his friends. Yummy Mummy No 1 hands me a large glass of wine. I am wedged between Alpha Mum and Smug Mother of Girls.
“The boys will be crawling off the walls soon with all those E numbers,” says Smug Mother of Girls.
“If you drink enough you won’t notice,” I tell her, watching middle son wrestling on the floor with his best friend. “Doesn’t it feel like a minor miracle every time you get to a party with a present and a card and the right child in tow?”
“I have a drawer of cards and a cupboard of presents,” says Alpha Mum smugly. “And a list of what my children were given so there is no danger of giving back the same present.”
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“Well, my girls have made the most beautiful card,” says Smug Mother of Girls. “Of course it’s hard to get boys to sit still for long enough to do that kind of thing.” Alpha Mum bristles.
As pass-the-parcel gets under way, I sneak into the hall where the presents are stacked, and swap the card on Smug Mother of Girls’ present for ours.
“So what have you given him?” I hear Alpha Mum ask when I reappear.
“A Disney princesses puzzle,” says Smug Mother of Girls. “All boys need a little pink in their life.”
This is worse than recycling the same present, so when no one is looking I go back into the hall and swap our card for the one from Alpha Mum.
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“I think there is something rather lovely about getting my girls to make things,” I hear Smug Mother of Girls tell Alpha Mum.
“Well, actually, my boys made the present,” says Alpha Mum triumphantly.
“What did they make?”
“A cardboard telescope using the inner tube from the clingfilm,” she says.