Myrtle Claus
At our house we haven't finished the party after the holidays: in January it's the youngest's birthday. And that means, in addition to a new gift hunt and baking your favorite cake with lots of chocolate, also organizing a party. But the key question is 'how?' At 13 years old, to my relief, she doesn't feel like a typical Italian children's party. Accustomed to old-fashioned Dutch children's parties with donkey-prick and biscuit bites, the first time I experienced such an Italian birthday party was a slight 'cultural shock'.
italian birthday party
About 10 years ago, my toddler son was invited to his very first birthday party. The address provided turned out not to be the birthday boy's house, but a parish hall cheerfully decorated with balloons and streamers.
And inside we found not a small group of classmates, but a whole group of children of different ages. Not only son's kindergarten class was present, but also the rest of the school. From the 3-year-old little ones to the school leavers of almost 6. And all the brothers and sisters who came along also turned out to be very welcome to join the party.
Noisy spectacle
The toddlers and cat-from-the-tree-watching preschoolers looked safely on Mom's or Dad's lap at the side of the room at the tangle of children that went completely loose. With much roaring and shouting they chased each other for unknown reasons.
Toddler son was just as dazed as I was and especially wanted to stay close to me. 10 minutes approximately. Long enough for him to get used to the sight and the noise. And long enough for me to understand that my plans to go shopping soon would be ruined: everyone came to bring children, but no one left.
tangle of toddlers
So I stayed too. Talked about small things. Explained several times that toddler daughter didn't come because she was still sleeping. Assured everyone that she wouldn't be missing next time of course. And waited for one of the birthday girl's parents to signal to start the first game.
It got later and later. The tangle of toddlers kept running around and got a bit tired with falls and crying spells as a result. And I waited. I poured sweaty son and boyfriends water and coke, gave each of them a plate of chips from the waiting buffet. And waited. I helped grandmothers unpack the pizza pieces, the sandwiches and the sweets. And waited.
No cookie bites or poking a donkey
And when, 2 hours after the start of the celebration, the presents were unwrapped and we all got a piece of the giant cake, I understood that I didn't have to wait anymore. The party was over. People started saying goodbye and leaving. We helped clean up and went home. Without biting into cookies or poking donkeys. With ringing ears from the sudden silence. And a whole new party experience richer.
To be continued…
(part 2 of this column about Italian children's parties can be found here)
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