A beach party or a Hawaiian Luau?
It will be Oliver’s 11th birthday in August.
In September he will be starting secondary school, and my years of planning parties for my own children will be effectively over.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy throwing parties for teenagers. Actually, yes, it is that. I don’t like throwing parties for teenagers.
Tom is a teenager and his party this year consisted of:
5 Dominoes pizza’s (£85.00 – I shit you not)
They slept in the shed/playhouse and played computer games and watched films while talking in deep, booming voices about girls and squeezing their spots. I expect.
So this will be the final flourish I suspect. I’m thinking of throwing a Beach Party. You know? Turn the shed/playhouse into a surf shack.
Have limbo dancing, and maybe a DJ. I was thinking I could make the invites out of sandpaper (the finest sand possible obviously) or maybe pebbles…
I could find the chocolate fountain and have pineapple and mango on skewers. Maybe a Barbeque for food – or, or, or maybe Hot dogs.
So, I’m once again at my happiest…planning a party. This time though it’s tinged with something a little more bittersweet.