One

Well, this event happened a few weeks back now, of course. But turning one is such a milestone for a baby (and her parents) that even when she was only 11 months old, we sort of thought of her as already being one…And now that she’s speeding on into those awkwardly named ages — awww, what a cute little smiler, how old is he? SHE’s 13 and a half months — we still think of her as being one. We remember what we were like a year ago, proud parents of such a tiny, new tot. And we smile fondly at her now, thinking how much more adorably interactive she is now. (Even if she still hasn’t grown enough hair to overcome what I hereby dub the Bystander Gender Bias.)

So to mark the occasion, a personalised website named after her birthdate, like Sienna Miller’s? Or, a Birthday Party?

My mum back in sunny South Africa said that the rule of thumb for how many guests a child ought to have at her birthday party is the same as her age. Turning one? One guest. Suck it and see (as indeed, the Hungry Mouth does, at every available opportunity). Well, this did not seem feasible to us. And yet, in hindsight, perchance ‘twas wise advice.

Obviously all the rellies had to be invited. Some had not yet met her, in fact. Quite a few people right there, and no other children. Pub lunch for all, and hence late nap for the Hungry Mouth, but on the whole, apart from not getting to eat our own lunches, all went OK. Tick.

Our antenatal group consists of six new families. That’s six one-year-olds and twelve parents. Aaack. Late afternoon playdate with baby-friendly snacks and parent-friendly bubbly. Entire floor covered with wriggling babies, squeaking with excitement. And their toys. And their discarded snacks. All went well till normal teatime and bathtime came and went (blame bubbly!) and our brand-new one-year-old went into meltdown, causing eventual departure of all guests and their happy, chortling babies. Sniffly scoops of soothing porridge in the bath…Tick?

Friends with children. Ahhh, mostly not having invited us to their one-year-olds’ parties, either because we were unbabied at the time, or because they followed my mum’s golden rule, or heck, maybe we aren’t that close after all. Skipped ’em.

Friends without children. In general, not incredibly interested in the Hungry Mouth’s amazing milestone. And why should they be? Invited ’em round for girly, bubbly Afternoon Tea and gave dad the Hungry Mouth to play with. Does that count as a birthday party?

Godparents. Turned up (bearing gifts) in the course of a normal visit. Good on them. Tick-tock.

All these events did generate lots of exciting new toys and clothes, but on the whole, not entirely sure if exhaustion was worth it. Turning two? Two guests – Mum and Dad…