R and G attended the 2nd birthday party of one of their nursery chums yesterday. The girls arrived fashionably late (after their nap), greeted the birthday boy with shrieks of CLACK CLACK (Clark), jumped around on the bouncy castle, had a boogie, ate some party food, chased ‘Clack’ around, met up with some of their other nursery friends and pointed at them (cue lots of slightly confused parents smiling uncertainly at each other) and got very excited at the presence of a large dog.
All within an hour of arriving.
Just after everyone sang Happy Birthday, the girls gathered up their party bags and made for the door, their party work done. Dh and I, reduced to mere chauffeurs and chaperones, followed meekly in their wake.
How come the girls have got the ‘fabulous at parties’ thing nailed at 20 months old and I’m still struggling with it at the age of 29 years?