I’m just getting back from a weekend hiatus. My baby boy turned eighteen this Saturday and I’m still trying to get over the trauma. The husband and I took the boy and his two best friends to South Carolina for the weekend. They partied at the beach and I threw my son one heck of a Mardi Gras-style birthday celebration complete with fireworks, a band, and a large crowd of revelers.
I have been throwing the kid a themed birthday party every year since the day he was born. At one point they’d be come so outrageous that folks were actually calling to try and finagle an invite for their kids. Folks we didn’t know.
By far, the Dinosaur Safari was probably my absolute favorite and we’ve done everything from pirates to cowboys to spacemen. We did a Dinosaur Safari for birthday number seven. There was a guest list of some thirty-two children, a costumed dinosaur character, and dinosaur egg goodie bags that involved two months of balloon blowing and paper mache. The invitation was a four-page newsletter, the kids came in costume, and there was a half-hour dino-character performance by a puppeteer. It was the first birthday party where I had to rent a hall to handle the event. The previous years I had just moved all my living and dining room furniture to the garage to create the fantasy atmosphere I wanted my son and his little friends to experience.
Other parents called me crazy. When the hubby saw the bills he called me names that couldn’t be repeated in mixed company. There was only one year that I didn’t give the child an elaborate party and I swear he still won’t let me forget it.
I imagine that this will be the last birthday splash I will get to plan and host for him. He’s quite the young man now and I doubt highly that he’ll still go for the clowns and balloons when he turns twenty-one.
I have been throwing the kid a themed birthday party every year since the day he was born. At one point they’d be come so outrageous that folks were actually calling to try and finagle an invite for their kids. Folks we didn’t know.
By far, the Dinosaur Safari was probably my absolute favorite and we’ve done everything from pirates to cowboys to spacemen. We did a Dinosaur Safari for birthday number seven. There was a guest list of some thirty-two children, a costumed dinosaur character, and dinosaur egg goodie bags that involved two months of balloon blowing and paper mache. The invitation was a four-page newsletter, the kids came in costume, and there was a half-hour dino-character performance by a puppeteer. It was the first birthday party where I had to rent a hall to handle the event. The previous years I had just moved all my living and dining room furniture to the garage to create the fantasy atmosphere I wanted my son and his little friends to experience.
Other parents called me crazy. When the hubby saw the bills he called me names that couldn’t be repeated in mixed company. There was only one year that I didn’t give the child an elaborate party and I swear he still won’t let me forget it.
I imagine that this will be the last birthday splash I will get to plan and host for him. He’s quite the young man now and I doubt highly that he’ll still go for the clowns and balloons when he turns twenty-one.
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