A legend is born.

As you may recall, this week Fraboo turned 6. We had a lovely little party for her over the weekend which had consumed many hours of planning (primarily by Mrs L.). It isn’t as though I didn’t have any planning of my own to do (more about that later), but Mrs L. has a talent for thinking up a theme, and making everything look perfect. In keeping with recent cinematic offerings, this year’s theme was snowflakes, snowmen and the like (for those of you living in the northern hemisphere, New Zealand is just emerging from the depths of winter (and by depths of winter I mean somewhere between 7⁰C and 14⁰C)). For a couple of weeks before hand we had been cutting up snowflakes, painting lollipop sticks white and generally getting in a very festive frame of mind. We hadn’t gone as far as to put on Christmas carols but that’s only because we couldn’t find the CD.

When it comes to parties, I am the first to admit, planning isn’t really my strong suit. My strength would very definitely be in the entertainment. There isn’t a hi-fi invented where I can’t operate the pause button, which makes me more than qualified to run games like musical statues, musical chairs, musical bumps, and that firm favourite pass the parcel. Not only that, I am the reigning champion (in my house) at sleeping lions and pin the tail on the donkey, and what I don’t know about blind man’s buff, really isn’t worth knowing. Never-the-less, two months before the party, I began to think about what I could do to really make Fraboo’s party a success.  I was mentioned this to one of my work colleagues and she told me about a family tradition she had grown up with. Apparently her Dad had worn a sparkly wig and fashioned a dress out of an old picnic blanket, and sewn sweets (or candies, or lollies depending where you’re from) onto the dress, and she and her friends had chased him around the garden trying to take the confectionary from him. He had even given the character a name; Miss Lolly, and it sounded right up my street. I thought that I could make a few tweaks to make Miss Lolly my own, and so it was that a week or so before the party, Mrs L. and I found ourselves in a local charity shop (op shop, thrift store depending on where you’re from) trawling through the plus size ladies clothing, and trying a few items on. Mrs L. received some pitying glances from a few elderly patrons, whilst I received some looks, which can most politely be described as withering! All in all we had tremendous fun, although being stuck in a lilac velour leisure suit was almost too much, and I had to scuttle away into forgotten corner to grapple with a very stubborn zip!

As I’m sure you’ve gathered from my previous posts, I couldn’t fairly be described as being petite, and this presented a few problems for me in choosing an appropriate outfit (or in fact any outfit!). This was made even more tricky by the fact that I had very definite ideas about what Miss Lolly’s character was like,(a very flamboyant crazy cat lady) and had to select an appropriate wardrobe for her. Sadly, the last feather boa had been sold just moments before I arrived, but eventually I made my selection. The lady who I paid clearly hadn’t seen me trying all of the garments on, and told (the very tiny) Mrs L. what a lovely colour her new dress was, sage words which were greeted with much sniggering.

In the lead up to the party, I’d told Fraboo that a very special friend of mine was going to be coming along. I provided her with as much information as I could about my “friend”, but she was already beside herself with excitement. As her friends arrived the first thing that Fraboo blurted out was that “Miss Lolly is coming too!”. Her excitement was infectious and soon all of her friends were asking for this mysterious lady.

After they’d played a few games I sent the kids off for a treasure hunt in the garden, and went and prepared. My sister helped apply some make up, and Miss Lolly made her grand entrance. I have to admit, I harboured concerns that the kids would all be terrified, and a member of the local constabulary would be called, but they absolutely loved it. She was chased around the garden by some blood thirsty (or sugar starved) five and six year olds, wrestled to the floor, and all of the sweets which had been so carefully taped to the bottom of her dress were stolen. Having lost her, oh so beautiful tinsel wig, Miss Lolly escaped to the house, her dignity only just intact.

If you’d asked me six years ago whether I thought at my daughter’s birthday party, I would be dressed in a turquoise dress, I would have laughed (but probably wouldn’t have altogether excluded the possibility). But Miss Lolly has been a huge hit, and already Fraboo is counting down the days until she will see her again.

If the truth be known I am ticking they days off of my calendar too, if only because it means I can buy a new dress!