How much is too much to spend on a child’s birthday party? £200? £600? £1000?
I wonder how much Kim Kardashian spent on her daughter Chicago’s fifth birthday party at the weekend.
The day had a Hello Kitty theme, with a DJ, a milkshake bar, slime-making area, ceramic Hello Kitty piggy banks to paint, two slides leading into a giant ball pit, and lavish decorations including pink balloon trees. Food ranged from a ramen bar, to waffle pops, and a cake the size of a small mountain. Obviously, Hello Kitty herself was also there.
Looking at the pictures, you might think: ‘Oh, it’s handy that Kim’s house has a pink carpet, in keeping with the theme of the party.’ No. That carpet was installed for the party.
Meanwhile, back in the real world, next month is my own daughter’s sixth birthday. And, while it’s not exactly Kardashian-level logistics, I’m facing a dilemma.
There is a certain children’s entertainer in my corner of East London - let's call her 'Highly Paid’ - who my daughter has seen at several of her friends' parties. As soon as I mooted the question about what she might like to do for her birthday, her eyes lit up as she squealed: ‘Highly Paid!’
The thing is, this entertainer’s fee is nearly £300. On top of that, my daughter wants to invite everyone in her class. Since we live in a normal house rather than a Kardashian mansion, inviting everyone that she wants would involve hiring a local venue. That’s another £200-£300. Then there’s food and drink, for the kids as well as any adults who stick around – and everyone knows the most popular children’s parties are the ones where harassed parents are handed a paper cup of fizz on arrival.
Then there’s the cake, and the party bags. And suddenly the conversation about her party changes from ‘just think how happy she’ll be!’ to ‘have you seen what our mortgage payments are going up by?’
On the school run last week, I overheard my daughter telling a friend all about her forthcoming party: how it will have a star turn by Highly Paid, and will take place in a local arts centre hall that she has been to many times, for other people’s children’s parties. ‘Oh actually,’ I quickly interjected, ‘it isn’t available on your birthday.’ But, on seeing her crestfallen expression, I couldn't help adding: ‘We’ll find somewhere just as good!’
Now I’m in a flap, trying to find a venue that can hold 25-30 excitable five and six-year-olds, and doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. While my husband, perhaps reasonably, thinks it would be totally fine to invite fewer kids (less than half the number she ideally wants), and just have it at home.
In my defence, it’s easy to get carried away. Like most parents, I’m addicted to the look of delight on my daughter’s face when something that she really, really wants to happen actually happens. It’s a healthier addiction than, say, smoking or heroin. But I do have to learn to balance my overwhelming desire to give her everything she wants with both our financial means and my simultaneous desire to raise a well-rounded human, rather than an unbearable princess.
And before you complain about the middle class bubble in which I live, where children’s parties like this appear to be standard: yes, I am very aware that I’m talking from the privileged position of being able to afford any kind of party at all.
Thinking back to my own childhood, I never had a huge party with everyone in my class, and I was perfectly happy. But then, none of my friends did either, so I had nothing to compare it to. When did this become the expectation?
As my husband says, she’s turning six. Will she actually remember or care that not every single one of her mates from school was at her birthday party? Wouldn’t she be just as happy with a smaller thing at home? In fact, wasn’t she just as happy eating a slice of cake on a doorstep with one socially-distanced friend during the pandemic?
I texted the pictures of Chicago’s party to my husband, saying that they put the expense of booking a local venue into perspective. He replied that, if my idea of ‘perspective’ is Kim Kardashian, then it rather proves his point. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I think he might be right on this one.
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