30 May 2015

The Pirate Party

My baby girl is 6 now.

It seems like over night she turned from a gurgeling, bald baby
into a chatty, rather long-haired, tall, smart, funny, beautiful girl.

Her actual birthday was last Friday and we had a relaxed afternoon at home and went for a lovely Italian dinner in the evening.

And we had chocolate cream gateau.

On Saturday, we partied hard.
A Pirate party.

I had bought napkins, balloons and garlands with pirate prints.
Granny had brought goodie bags, golden chocolate coins, marshmallow rats and a compass.

I had ordered costumes and accessories for Klara, Gerd and me online.
I had looked up "Pirate Party Food" ideas on Pinterest and decided to ignore them.
Even though, there were some cute, funny ideas. But I thought, they could be a waste of time.
I was right.
Well, I baked a cake. But after the party, I made a note to myself, NOT to make such an effort again.


They didn't eat it. 

I had prepared a treasure hunt outside. I wrote clues on little peaces of paper and let the pirates find them.
Here are some examples:
#1: Find another note in the square sandy beach in the garden!
- Note in the sand pit.
#2: 2 wild creatures are locked away behind a fence. Ask them for help!
- Note in the chicken coop.
#3: Find another clue in Captain Gerd's ship!
- Note in Gerd's van.
#4: There's a message in a bottle! Quick, find it! Before it sinks!
- Note in bottle in water trough.
...follow the trace of sea shellls...
...take kompass and head east...
...follow the arrows...
...find the map...

And so on.

I think most of the girls enjoyed it. Nobody cried. They found the treasure.

 All fine!

At home, Klara learned the hard way, that - even though, it was HER party, - she doesn't automatically win the games "musical statues", "musical chairs", "simon sais"... etc. Poor girl. Now, there were tears. But thank god, we had Captain Gerd. He explained. He explained again. He joked. He wiped tears. He tried to be just fair. He explained. While carrying the baby around.
In the meanwhile, listening to all that drama, I stuck my head in the oven, begging it to cremate me pretending to be uber busy making finger food for the pirates. There simply IS a reason why I'm neither a childminder nor a teacher. I can only handle a certain amount of bitchiness and drama of little girls. That's it. If Gerd wasn't there, I might have started shouting at them in the bitchiest way possible. But I didn'd. I cooked sausages and chicken nuggets, i washed baby tomatoes and cubed cheese. And after the party, I made a note to myself, NOT to make such an effort again.

They didn't eat it.

I did.

Next year, there'll be store bought mini muffins and bags of crisps.

And Klara picked a theme for the 7th birthday party already.


Really, like.

Ahoy, mateys!


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