Happy Birthday Dash and George

Most weekends are spent ferrying JP and Tiddler to and from birthday parties at Wacky Warehouse, Captain Coconut's, Little Rascals (or Dirty Rascals as Tiddler refers to it), Megabowl and Ski Rossendale - the premiership party venues for this particular corner of East Lancs.

Some part of each Friday is spent in mild panic - do we need boy or girl presents/cards/paper this weekend? And this is after we've figured out the acceptable level of expenditure for 4/5/6/7 year olds' presents. This is dangerous territory - not least because I haven't the slightest notion of what to buy for girls, never having been a real one myself*.

Anyway. Over time, I believe I have hit on the right formula and sleep easy in my bed knowing that JP isn't going to be ostracised over an over-budget Lego Inika Hero or under-budget Polly Pocket Camper Van.

This week, the whole birthday plan thing came apart at the seams when the Little Ducks were invited to a first birthday party for two guinea pigs - pass the parcel, bring your own pets.

Now. Do I really take JP's menagerie - and risk the strange glances that will surely come our way? Probably not.**

What about gifts? cards? Do I suffer disappointed faces from the guines pigs' owners if there's no gift or risk the parents phoning the funny farm if we bring something.

I settle for sunflower seeds and a large carrot wrapped up to look like a Christmas cracker, with no card, but not wrapped in edible rice paper (OTT) and hope for the best.

* I'm not a post-op transsexual, nor Pinocchio's sister - just a tomboy, in case you were wondering.

** Update. The triops are now 2-3 mm long and the grass needs mowing. The ants have built a conservatory, put block paving on the drive and joined the pub quiz team.