Toby Young on the social pitfalls of your child’s birthday party
I suppose it had to happen. There comes a time in every father’s life when his son’s social activity begins to eclipse his own. I used to find it amusing when Ludo received a stiffy in the morning post. ‘What is it now?’ I’d say, waving the letter about in mock indignation. ‘Another garden party at Buckingham Palace?’ These days, I sneak downstairs before he gets up and root about in the pile of invitations on the doormat, trying to find one that isn’t addressed to him. It wouldn’t be so bad, but the little bugger is only two-and-a-half.
The reason for this deluge of invitations is that he’s started going to a posh nursery school in west London. He has 16 classmates and whenever one of them has a birthday party it is customary for all the other children to be invited. At first, this tradition struck me as refreshingly egalitarian, but I now realise it is just an excuse for the parents to advertise how well they’re doing. The opportunities for one-upmanship are almost limitless.
Take the venue where the celebration is held. Until recently, the grandest party Ludo had been to was at Bramley’s, an indoor adventure playground on the wrong side of Holland Park Avenue. The staff supplied each child with a plateful of chicken nuggets and a Mini Milk, before sending them home with a balloon on a stick. Ludo couldn’t have been happier. Indeed, for several weeks afterwards I was able to persuade him to perform any number of onerous tasks by promising to hold his own party there next year.
Now, unfortunately, he’s had a glimpse of how the other half lives.
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