Giddy up, folks, we’re having ourselves a farm party.
The invites went out at school this morning. Maxi was very anxious about their delivery as it’s the first time I’ve said ‘no way, do you think I’m completely insane?’ when he wanted to invite every kid in his class. He has invited 11 kids in his class (and combined with assorted cousins and other friends, that’s still 25 kids invited to the party because yes, I am in actual fact insane). (Hopefully only half can make it.)
The main cause of the worry was about what he’d say to the kids who weren’t invited. “You tell them that you aren’t allowed to invite everyone and maybe next year,” I said crisply.
“What if they cry, Mum?” He replied.
“You tell them you’ll give them something to really cry about if they don’t stop being little whiners,” I said.
“Okay, Mum,” he said, relieved that he had a strategy.
Not really. In the end I had no answer to the crying thing, so we enlisted the help of his teacher to safely, and subtly, deliver to the chosen few.
I am most excited about the fact that there are four girls on the list. Last year he told me he would rather be run over by a car than invite a girl to his party. He’s growing up, my boy.
I so enjoyed making these little seedy farm invitations. I’m looking forward to seeing carrots growing across our suburb come winter. Won’t the parents love me!? Oh, and yes, I have indeed designed a logo for my son’s eighth birthday party… I probably need to find another job when you think about it. Too much?