Five

 Little boy Rufus is now five!  We had a very spontaneous birthday party for him on his actual birthday.  The boys were supposed to be having a shared party, as it is Henry's seventh birthday on 5th July.  When we have bothered having birthday parties at all in England, they had a shared party.  But even though the boys are only two years apart, they might as well be two worlds apart when it comes to hosting a party which consists of 4/5 year olds and 6/7 year olds.

The budget for your average children's birthday party in Australia is something akin to what I spent on my last dance production. Which employed five dancers, lighting technician, music editing and costumes.  And most of my performances did not involve the cast having a nervous breakdown and everyone having alcohol for medicinal purposes (no, that was just for fun afterwards).  And the organisers of the party having to have "quiet time" for months to follow.   Can you imagine paying hundreds or thousands of dollars for some snotty-nosed little shits to run around at your local pool/gymnastics hall/football field/karate studio, feed them all your hard-baked goods only to hear at the end "where's my party bag?".  Piss off you spoilt little Lord Fauntleroy.

So back to the story: The day before Rufus' birthday, we were at a seven year old's gymnastics party.  I looked at these boisterous, loud, exuberant boys and wondered how they would fit in with Rufus' younger friends.  The truth is, his thunder would definitely have been stolen.  And if you invite one seven year old from a class, you need to invite fourteen really.  I knew that Rufus would be happy with two friends, lots of balloons and cake.  So I did a quick ring around at 9am on the Sunday morning of the party (anyone who didn't have children would absolutely kill you).  Everyone was free, including the neighbours.

The adults had champagne and strawberries, the children had their party food, and everyone had a lovely spontaneous time.  And of course we didn't let on to Rufus that this was quickly organised within a few hours.  He thought it was wonderful.  And they got to play what our boys like to call "Parcel to Parcel".  The only downside was that after everyone had gone I discovered that the 3 year old Hawthorn Supporter down the road had explored and emptied nearly every cupboard in the house.  Even the linen press.  At least he had a good time.