Happy 8th Birthday Niels

Actually he's 8 until May 16, but as hubby is heading back to sea on Friday we held the 'grown ups' party a week early. Luckily the weather was beuatifully spring-like and we were able to sit outside for the duration. It was a chance for us all to catch up with our good friends Maria and Sandrino whom we hadn't seen since before moving to Singapore, as well as their cute little daughter Laura, who is about six months younger than Carl. He was fascinated by the thought of a little girl coming to play who was not only the same age as him, but also bi-lingual as well. Imagine! Another kids just like him! Amazing!

Just before she arrived I heard him brushing off his dusty Mandarin phrases in a non-too-subtle attempt to sweep her off her feet as a fellow linguist who could shakily lay claim to three languges. What a flirt. Fortuantely they both speak Dutch, not that it matters much with Carl because he will do all of the talking, anyway. Within half an hour she had recovered from her shyness at being surrounded by strange people and her and Carl were inseparable for the rest of the afternoon.

In the Netherlands it's traditional to fly the flag when your kid has a birthday, so in true patriotic style you can see both the Dutch and New Zealand flags flying, which Niels in particular thought was cool. The neighbours probably just wondered why we were flying a British flag. Or perhaps it's Australian...?

Niels was of course the hero of the hour and was only too keen to hold court witha captive audience, slipping into the role of Master of Ceremonies as naturally as if he'd been rehearsing all week. He seriously announced when the food was ready, when the cake was coming, and when we should all sing. Talking of cakes, I had spent a good portion of the morning preparing his Spitfire cake - yes it had to be a Spitfire in the end - which was challenging to say the least. It was during the most stressful moment when the licorice propellor blades kept falling out of the damned chocolate egg propellor hub that I glanced up and spotted an old guy walking his dog past the house. I say walking but actually I know him and his wife well - they delight in stopping on the footpath where they think they are concealed behind the playhouse and allowing their mutt to roam up our driveway to the gate where it goes crazy trying to get at our rabbits, which of course run loose on our lawn. I've tried politley asking the wife not to do it because it freaks out the bunnies, is extremely mean and just plain antisocial - the dog is wandering on OUR property afterall - and yet they do it every bloody day, every time they walk their dog. Well he had seriously picked the wrong moment to stop. With camoflage green icing still dripping from my fingers I marched out and gave him a BLAST in my best polite-but-oh-so-vicious Dutch, accusing him of being the antisocial butthead that he obviously is. He strode off, yanking the mutt behind him and I returned in feeling vindicated and righteous until I saw hubby cracking up inside the house. Well, at least I felt better and the adrenline rush propelled me through the rest of the day.

The rest of the day went without a hitch, and it was a chance to try out loads of new dishes which were a big success. On request I'm going to post some of the recipies here in the comin days, so get ready to skip those if you're not interested.