After my getting my shit together this morning, I was ready to receive the birthday party guests.
The Plan – I use the term loosely – was to ‘hang’ (because ‘muck around’ was “OMG, SO embarrassing, Mum! Can you please just … STOP!”) for a few hours before heading off to the slightly more planned activity in the afternoon.
After a bout of water fights, they teens set about doing what they do best …
SO much excitement in the room it almost self combusted! What fun!
An ad hoc morning and my working out that all I needed to do to win their love was proffer chocolate – pfft! Too easy! I have no idea why people say teenage girls are so hard. I got hugs and “I LOVE YOU!” and all. And all I had for them was half a block of Cadbury’s and some left over Maltesers.
Anyhoo, we organised our selves for our afternoon at Bounce.
I donned my just-below-knee length exercise leggings and a top, and gave them the courtesy of determining my public embarrassment levels.
“Are you ok to be seen in public with me dressed like this?” I ask.
Eyes darted back and forth, locking with each other before moving onto the next, and looks of horror crossed faces.
“Eh …. erm …. no, no, that’s fine!” they uttered.
“I’ll go get changed,” I say and swapped my top for something longer and slightly more acceptable. Although, I’m not convince they were impressed, they just had time to prepare for it better.
Thus we spent two hours bouncing around on trampolines (at Bounce, funnily enough) where they were more than happy to have me accompany them, and have Grumpy Pants challenge them to some Dodge Ball.
I wasn’t particularly interested in how much fun they were having, and embarked upon a considerably amount of my own fun, flipping and jumping and flopping and testing my abilities.
The ad hoc-ness of the day continued with a rather random and unexpected “Can we have pizza for dinner when we get back?”
We hadn’t really planned on dinner, but had also, earlier in the day, decided that cake before Bounce was dumb, so we were going back to our place to have some.
I have previously made pizza for this lot and, apparently, I am awesome at making pizza.
Therefore, pizza was on the menu.
One of the girls had to go, so I chopped out a piece of birthday cake for her before she left – creating a gap in the cake that was just not acceptable.
Pizzas cooked and consumed, I has to tend to the horrific appearance of the cake, which I ‘fixed’ with a ‘cascade’ of fresh strawberries and leftover Maltesers.
I use the term ‘cascade’ loosely.