"And Then They Were Six..."

My darling Egg is now 6 years old. 

Somehow, this makes me feel a little sad. Like life is rushing by too quickly. At five you still cling wistfully to the toddler stage..but at six, it's a definite bold step into proper boyhood (sigh).


I expect Egg is rather happy about this, for he has been known to periodically sigh (and other times cry out in frustration) "It's so hard being five!" 


"True enough Egg" I feel like telling him, "but just wait till you're in your thirties..."


I am pleased however to report that his birthday party went off without a hitch - despite two residually ill parents, a rather meddlesome 'Birthday Brother' (more on that later), and some overzealous party guests who attempted to paper mache the huge gourmet chocolate birthday cake with spittle-coated fingers before it was even cut.


The day began with Egg bursting gleefully into our open plan kitchen/lounge and exclaiming over the twenty odd balloons the husband and I had painstakingly blown up the night before (I shudder to think of the germs contained therein).


"Thanks Mama, thanks Dada, this is GREAT!" he yelled, dancing about and grabbing the surprise box of 'Honey Stars' birthday cereal we'd left on the table.


A short while later we journeyed en masse to 'TukMak', Egg's favourite breakfast joint, where he partook of a giant helping of blueberry pancakes and (fake) maple syrup. (Hey, we ain't in Kansas anymore....we're in Bali).


Once the monsters were dropped off exceedingly late at school, the husband and I happened upon a piece of such good fortune that it rendered my Bintang Supermarket quandry obsolete.


Up some little street we found this delightful little store where one hour and several fistfuls of Rupiah later I managed to morph from 'Sick Mummy' into 'Mumzilla Party Mum' as I managed to source not only the most amazing party gifts, but contents for the best goodie bags ever AND put in an order for the excited store owner to custom make up twelve little goodie bags from scratch.


All illness was pushed to one side as I delighted in our good fortune, periodically popping my head out the store to thrust yet another delightful object under the nose of a totally disinterested husband who was leaning resignedly against the scooter, merely shaking his head in disbelief at my sudden conversion from 'sicko' into crazed party planner. What can I say? A great store is a great store!


By the time Egg's party kicked off I almost looked normal, thanks to a liberal application of my favourite Nars pink lipstick (yes, i DO own a pink lipstick by the way and it is bloody fabulous - so there). In fact you could almost be forgiven for thinking that I was a relatively sane and normal parent, up until Pass the Parcel started going wrong. 


The husband, having neglected to pay attention and keep track of which children had already had a go, meant that I was thus relegated into stern taskmaster mode, forced into loudly whispering 'Stop!" under my breath whenever it looked like the right child was in possession of the package. Of course with delayed reaction, this meant that our system for 'fair and just present allocation' fell totally by the wayside and the whole thing turned into a shambles. Luckily the sudden arrival of several large pizzas meant that I had the perfect excuse to bail and left the whole sorry mess to the increasingly perplexed 'DJ Dada' to sort out.


There was however, a slight hiccup during Musical Statues, what with little Egg doing so well at holding still when the music stopped, just his little lips quivering in an excited smirk as he did his best not to move a muscle. I took the (in hindsight unfortunate) decision to disqualify him from the game when he was but one of three left, in an effort to ensure that he didn't win the prize instead of a party guest.


Bad move. Egg burst into tears and there was a mild tantrum followed by embarrassed silence and obvious distracting maneouvers from assembled parents, while the husband and I just looked at each other and thought 'Oops'.


Luckily, we were able to move on and the party continued without incident until cake cutting time, when the children went feral and began crowding in and slobbering all over the birthday cake after Egg had blown out the candles. They all stuck wet dirty fingers into the fray and began trying to remove great chunks of icing whilst shouting 'I want that piece - no I want THAT piece!' as I tried unsuccessfully to shield the cake from further destruction. 


The cake in question was big and round and chocolatey, with a giant bumblebee on the top - in homage to 'The Bee Movie'.


As portions of unwanted cake started piling up beside me because the twelve assembled children were ALL clamouring for a piece with the Bee's head on it, and would not accept any substitution, I suddenly lost it and just grabbed the cake and ran. 


The husband followed, perplexed, and looked none to impressed with my lack of coping skills. Fair enough, but in a perfect world I'd have been lying two duvets deep with a stash of Nurofen Plus nearby so...come on.


As for Dumps, well he came into his own during Pass The Parcel when after each unveiling of another layer, he'd shimmy on over to the child in question and demand to see what treat they got - just in case it was better than his and some intimidation and coercion were necessary to encourage a forced 'trade up'.


Just before bedtime, this selfsame 'Birthday Brother' was found hidden away in his bedroom surrounded by a huge pile of Eggie's presents strewn all around him, no doubt seeing if there was anything worth pilfering. (Since then, a Spiderman pencil case has been M.I.A. and I suspect only brother Dumps knows its whereabouts.)


All in all it was a great day and the night ended with Egg and I playing a dinosaur card game and me trying to console Egg over his birthday being over for another year.


Highlights? The wood carver we cleverly thought to invite to teach the children preliminary wood carving was pretty spot on...beats a traditional hired clown hands down.


Lowlights? In retrospect, me spazzing out over the kiddie-cake-grabbing fiasco and running away in panic clutching giant birthday cake was probably not one of my finer moments.


But Egg was happy, and that's all that counts. And no children vomited, drowned in the pool, or were run over by a car or scooter - despite being discovered on the road in front of the house by a concerned mother at pick-up time.


Some things never change...