Frozen Party
“I don’t like Frozen anymore, Daddy,” Jacob declared less than a week before his 100% Frozen-themed 4th birthday party.
“But you’ve loved it for the past year? Could you not just hang in there for a bit longer, buddy?”
“It’s boring. I only like animals now.”
“Can you not like Frozen and animals?”
“Don’t be so silly, Daddy.”
As if this revelation wasn’t enough of a headache, the day before the party, I was handed a shopping list so complex it felt like I was participating in a task on The Apprentice. My Morrisons search for 24 minipacks of Skittles proved fruitless (pardon the pun) and, after spending several minutes perusing the fridges in pursuit of coconut milk, I gave up and called Louise.
“What do you mean it comes in a tin?”
I eventually asked a man who pointed me to an empty space where it should have been on the Asian food aisle.
By the time a lady in the Card Factory was telling me they had “literally just sold” the last helium canister, I wondered whether it would be acceptable to cancel the party altogether.
“The shop in Kirkstall might have one, love,” she said as I was leaving.
I drove to Kirkstall.
A helium canister, it turns, costs £30 which was considerably more expensive than I remembered. Inflation, eh? (that’s a bad joke.)
On the way back, I called in at Londis and was genuinely close to clenching a fist in celebration when I sourced not only the minipacks of Skittles but also the elusive tin of coconut milk. Proud of my never-say-die attitude, I anticipated a hero’s welcome when I got home.
“Why on earth does everything take you so long, Andy?”
After the boys had gone to bed on Saturday night, Louise baked a cake and I was tasked with blowing up some Frozen-themed balloons that Jacob may or may not hate. Things got off to a bad start when I attempted to insert the valve into an Olaf balloon and ripped a hole in it. As I was struggling to find the opening on the next one, Louise intervened.
“You need to use a straw, Andy,” she said, as though this were common knowledge.
“Oh.”
“Look, I’ll show you…” she said, “it’s really not that hard.”
While she started blowing up an Elsa balloon, I felt the familiar knot in my stomach that arrives whenever I am incapable of completing basic practical tasks. While I was soul-searching, though, Louise overinflated the balloon and it popped. Now, I am not proud of this, but I admit a small part of me was happy she had also failed and I had to catch myself before making a dickish remark. Gladly, we upped our game and there were no further casualties.
Louise, who had done the lion’s share (all) of the party organising, had booked out the local church hall from 2 pm to 4.30 pm on Sunday and we drove up early to set up. The door was locked and, while we were waiting, I tried to catch the end of the Leeds game on my phone while she shot me disapproving glances. The very second the vicar arrived to let us in, Leeds won a last-minute penalty, and I felt my heart racing with excitement.
“For God’s sake, Andy! Get off your phone!” Louise said, before apologizing to the vicar for using the Lord’s name in vain.
I sighed and put my phone in my pocket.
Some friends kindly helped us with the decorations and sorting out the food, which was greatly appreciated as I was preoccupied thinking about the football and subsequently not functioning at a high level/barely functioning at all. To start with, I realized I had left the milk at home. I then lost the car keys and blamed Louise (later found underneath a Tesco bag for life) before misplacing an envelope containing money to pay a lady dressed as Elsa (later found on the floor in the corner of the church hall.)
My parents arrived with the boys and any fears that Jacob wouldn’t like the theme were allayed when he arrived in his own Elsa outfit, complete with wand and tiara, grinning from ear to ear. Joshua, in more understated attire of t-shirt and jeans, was also bouncing around in high spirits; I think he’d started early on the Skittles.
“Are you ok, Andrew?” my dad asked. “You look very flush.”
“I’m absolutely fine,” I said, too loud, before dashing out of the hall to go and buy some milk. As I got in the car, I berated myself for being a selfish and useless man and took some deep breaths.
Then checked the Leeds score. 2-1. Full-time. Excellent.
Arriving back at the church hall with a 2-litre bottle of Cravendale, I apologized to Louise before employing myself as chief tea and coffee pourer. At a child’s party, it is imperative that a man has a specific task otherwise he will just mill around, trying to be helpful but never quite sure what he should be doing. Louise tells me I am an “expert hoverer” which is not, I don’t think, a compliment.
The Elsa lady was terrific, putting on some games and songs which Jacob and the other kids loved, so it was a relief her wages had shown up and we could pay for her efforts. As a limbo competition was in full swing, I stood with another dad on the periphery.
“Did you watch the football, Andy?”
“Bit of a sore subject…”
While we were chatting about Leeds’s hopes for promotion, Louise appeared from nowhere.
“Seriously, Andy?”
What does she want me to talk about? Would she rather I was critically analysing Joshua’s limbo technique?
Noticing the children were getting glassy-eyed, the Elsa lady suggested it was time for them to eat and I got the impression she may have had a bad experience with hungry/hyper children in in the past. Louise had rustled up a lovely spread and my expert hovering came in handy so I could swoop on a couple of leftover sausage rolls.
After we’d done the cake and handed out the party bags, my parents helped us with the clean-up mission while the boys charged around the hall, wired on Skittles, waving plastic wands. I noticed that several of the helium balloons that had come at such a financial and emotional cost had drifted up to the ceiling, out of reach, but chose not to mention this.
On the way home, Louise and I reflected on a successful afternoon. As with almost every aspect of parenting, it has been stressful but ultimately worthwhile.
“Did you enjoy your party, Jacob?” I asked him.
“Yes, I loved it."
"So, you haven't gone off Frozen then?"
"No. Don't be so silly, Daddy."
***
