Monday, March 1, 2004
Page 15
AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
A Fairy Nice Celebration
By J’AMY PACHECO
When it comes to fun, excitement and a guaranteed need for mind-calming prescription drugs, nothing beats a houseful of fairies.
Last weekend, we finally got around to hosting my daughter’s birthday party. Although several weeks had passed since she officially turned eight, until last weekend we’d been too busy to host the annual event in which little girls take over our home for gift giving, cake eating and generally festive behavior.
This year, my Tinker Bell-loving offspring chose a fairy theme for her party. It was an easy theme to get excited about; we made invitations from parchment paper adorned with gold glitter and fairy stickers. We rolled them into scrolls, secured them with iridescent ribbon and tied tiny golden wands to each scroll.
We invited a dozen prospective fairies, ranging in age from eight down to one, suggesting they “gather up their wands and wings” to join us for a “fairybration.”
On party day, we were ready. At least, I thought we were ready.
The birthday girl wore a fluffy green Tinker Bell dress, a pastel-flower ponytail holder, and tights. No shoes.
“Mom,” my Peter Pan-savvy daughter said when I suggested footwear. “When the first baby laughed and the first fairies were born, they went skipping about. How could they go skipping about with shoes?”
So my shoeless fairy skipped about that morning helping me prepare for the festivities.
Garlands of silk spring flowers were draped on the stair railings and over windows. Tiny fairy cutouts hid in houseplants, and a winged fairy-bear hung from the ceiling fan. Pink balloons were everywhere.
Pink floral glass bowls, received as wedding gifts and never used, finally had a purpose. One large bowl was filled entirely with M&M candy—something I’d long wanted to do, for no apparent reason.
Two long tables were covered with Tinker Bell tablecloths. Pink candles rose from crystal candleholders; pink silk rose petals were scattered from one end of the tables to the other.
Fairy food was set out: chocolate-covered strawberries and pretzel stick “wands;” tiny sandwiches cut into the shapes of stars and butterflies, pink lemonade.
Materials for activities lay ready: wand-and-crown making supplies, glue, star garland, glitter, and lots of ribbon.
It was a perfect setting for a party of sweet little fairy-girls.
Unfortunately, none of those showed up.
Instead, we got what is best described as an army of fairy-impersonating beasties. One girl arrived looking like something out of a “Lord of the Rings” movie, and proceeded to eat every one of the chocolate pretzel wands. Another, wearing a party dress with wings, ignored my admonishments to stay downstairs, and kept trying to escape to the upper floor.
One of the two-year-olds pulled the head and legs off a Barbie clone, causing the birthday girl to burst into tears. Another toddler ate glitter—and seemed to enjoy it.
The mothers who stayed parked themselves in the family room, far from the birthday noise. And what noise there was. I had no idea little girls had such big voices.
At some point, one of the evil fairies started a rose petal battle. I think it started out with someone gently tossing petals, wedding-like. But it soon became a free-for-all, with rose petals flung like hand-grenades. It ended with the girls whacking one another with balloons.
Fortunately, no blood was shed. In an uncharacteristically perceptive move, I decided to let the fairies decorate the tips of their wands, but I put the wooden dowels away to be affixed later.
Once the crowns and wands were finished, things deteriorated rapidly. I attempted to capture their attention with cake, but succeeded only in providing more fuel for their sugar-crazed activity. The gift opening seemed to happen in high-speed, and they soon were back to their wild fairy play.
I thought they’d never leave. When the last fairy’s mother arrived, the girl hid. But I sniffed her out like a bloodhound who’d had too much.
About an hour later, my Tinker Bell passed out on the couch in her foofy dress. She wanted to wear it to bed, and declared hers “the best party ever.”
I’m reserving judgment. Until I get the glitter out of the rugs, anyway.
Copyright 2004, Metropolitan News Company