Miss P’s birthday party was this weekend and since she’s still raving about, I’d say it was a success. 11 girls -9 invitees plus my 2 – came dressed in their finest “evening” wear for a pajama party. Because I relish the small bit of sanity I have left, this pajama party was a sleepUNDER as opposed to a sleepover. Parents were asked to drop their pajama-clad darlings off at 6:30pm to participate in P’s pizza-eating, popcorn-popping, pop-music-dancing, (the littlest) pet shops-obsessing party, but reminded, more than once, to be back by 9pm that same night to take their overstimulated monsters home.
As each guest arrived, she was asked to sign the “happy birthday” pillowcase and take a picture with the birthday girl. Next, the guests got the chance to decorate their own pillowcases. Textile paint and markers, especially the ones with glitter and sparkles, proved to be an enormous crowd pleaser. After creating magnificent works of art on pillowcase canvases completely devouring 2 large pizzas, it was on to the games. Birthday Bingo was first on my itinerary. Someone suggested I have a couple of backup games ready to replace this, as he deemed it too babyish for this age group, I was worried. But I had nothing to worry about. This was quite a competitive group of girls which resulted in a few very spirited rounds of Bingo. Grandma would be proud.
With all of the impromptu dance routines and spontaneous bursts onto song, I sensed the time for karaoke had arrived. I don’t have a karaoke machine or video game, just a Hanna Montana microphone and iTunes. But why spoil the fun when the best thing about hearing little kids sing is hearing how the butcher the words of the song. “Let’s dance, let’s shout. Shake your body like a toothbrush” is so much funnier than the actual lyrics.
Finally it’s time to sing “Happy Birthday” and have cupcakes. Because Miss P lives and was born in the Netherlands, we always sing the english version of the happy birthday song, followed byLang Zal Je Leven. And because we live in such an international community and all of the party guests were Miss P’s classmates from the International School, she was also treated to the Happy Birthday Song in French, and in Farsi by her two Iranian friends.
The gifts are opened and it appears that there is not a Littlest Pet Shop left in the whole of the Netherlands. 9pm arrives, as do the parents and the party is officially over. Miss P is beaming. It was her best party ever. Who knew that pajamas, pillowcases, and pet shops were the ingredients for the perfect party?