A few days ago I overheard
one of my grandkids say: “She said I could come to her party.”
Today we take her to
the birthday party. She jumps from the car; screams; runs past some balloons
and aims for the front door. The birthday girl emerges. She sees Kay and her
present. She smiles and rips the paper.
Her mother takes charge
of a growing pile of used birthday paper.
Another lady
decides everybody is now here. It is time for some games. She raises her arms
and yells: “We are now going to play some games. Everybody sit down in a
circle.”
She organizes pass
the parcel, pin the tail on the bilby, musical chairs and free time on the
trampoline.
The adults play a game
called find someone to talk with. The men play the game standing holding a beer
while watching sizzling sausages. The women play the game in the kitchen. Discussing
what plate to use, where the plate should go and how people should serve the
food.
I hear a man say: “Well
I can’t tell you another joke like that. That is not politically correct.”
Another man says: “But
it was funny. You’ve got to admit.”
Looking around I
see the kids are all being very politically correct.
One of the kids has
an obvious physical disability. The other kids think about what games he can
play. They decide he can have slightly modified rules.
All the kids are
aware that some of the kids have parents who come from faraway lands. That they eat different foods. All the kids accept all these differences.
I watch as everybody
(boys and girls) playing with everybody.
They are all being
politically very correct.
A sausage finds
itself in the flames. A cook picks it up, wipes it and puts it back.
A passing woman says:
“Well that is just typical of men. That is what you expect of men.”
I then decide I
will help the women arrange the food on the table.
A woman says to me:
“I’ll do that. You go and have a drink.”
She points me back towards
the scrum of men cooking the sausages.
The table finishes
up laden with fairy bread, sandwiches, little boys, a fruit platter, party pies
and sausage rolls as well as sausages. My heart is cheered when I see a lot of
the kids devour the fruit such as strawberries and water melon and banana.
My cheer evaporates
when I see the drinks available. The soft drinks depress me. Soft drink is empty calories. Obesity leads
to more health problems than tobacco. It is possible for these kids to enjoy
yourself and have a good time and drink something healthy.
A party is exactly
when you should set an example. Set trends. Change behaviour. Change the way
people see various foods. They will remember.
Show people that you can enjoy yourself in the short term and be healthy
in the long term at the same time.
My thoughts make me
feel morose, glum and lonely. I can’t have any kids see that I’m unhappy.
I tell myself: “It’s
a party. Enjoy yourself.”
My wandering brain reconnects
with reality. Mum enters grinning broadly. Holding the special cake. The status
of her family depends on this cake. Shaped like a unicorn and impossible to
cut.
Candles appear and
are lit. Cameras are poised waiting for
the birthday girl to blow the candles out. The song “Happy Birthday” arises. I
don’t know which way the song will finish. I do know that all the kids think it
is a happy birthday and all have behaved politically correct.
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