The annual birthday party. Often an angst ridden affair with a last minute rush of crocheting party favours and painting papier-mâché at midnight the night before. It's not the feeding of a hungry bunch of kids that worries me. I love cooking for children. It's keeping them amused for three hours, and the preparation it requires that frightens the bejesus out of me.
This year, thankfully, Hugo didn't want any party games, no pin the tail on the donkey, no pass the parcel and definitely no girls. What he did want, was a bonfire and a chocolate cake, with "Hugo's Chocolate Cake" written in running writing on the top. Too easy. Now this is a party we can do.
A handful of school buddies, building towers with kindling, tossing paper aeroplanes down the hallway and toasting mama-made marshmallows on the little campfire we made. And of course finishing with the requested chocolate cake. That mama forgot to buy six candles for. Luckily no one noticed. They were all too busy having fun. Even without a piñata.