Harry Potter Party I

(Posted by Jennifer)

It's a show-must-go-on kind of world when it comes to kids' birthday parties, so whether I'm glum about the book or not, it was the last gasp of Aidan's birthday today, many weeks after his birthday itself, as we finally got ourselves together to throw him a NZ birthday party. It was a Harry Potter party, like Naomi's will be, although unlike hers this one was attended by group of people who actually don't, er, know anything about Harry Potter, so the jokes and clever touches were useless. The boys (one in wizarding clothes--with a Harry Potter scar drawn on, even) were sorted into two houses and the competition was begun.

We began with broomstick relay races on the hill overlooking the sea, and then came and cooled down with potions class on the front porch of the wee community hall we had rented for the occasion (stomaching the $20 rental fee with difficulty). The weather—which was supposed to be a little iffy—turned out to be lovely, and most of the activities could happen outside.

We had Potions class where we mixed cabbage juice with vinegar and then added baking soda and watched it fizz and foam. I called the potion “magic birthday punch” and told them I would transform it into the punch to drink with the cake. I took the nasty smelly glasses into the kitchen, poured the foaming ick down the drain and then created a punch—cranberry juice and Sprite—that looked almost exactly the same. We had one child who was convinced that everyone was drinking the cabbage/vinegar mixture. And even Aidan believed that I had added some ingredient to make the original mixture so delicious. Then we mixed corn starch with coloured water and made what we’ve always called “ooblich,” a substance that is a solid while it’s in motion and a liquid when it’s still. It’s the best potion in the world, and the kids laughed and played. Inside for handwashing and cake, with candles that would not go out (the picture today of Aidan laughing while blowing out the candles is because that one kept relighting).

Then, after every kid had tried the “magic birthday punch” (and were all convinced I had some sort of magic ability), we took them outside again to Care of Magical Creatures—in this case, rocket blast-ended snipes (sometimes called rocket balloons) which they shot up in the air with delicious glee (and the not-so-infrequent phallic joke necessary when six year old boys have hot-dog shaped balloons in their hands). It was a lovely success, and I was thrilled when the end arrived and we could finally finally put the lid on Aidan’s birthday for the year. In the car on the way home, Naomi said, “So, now that Aidan’s birthday party is over, can we talk about mine?” and so we did. One party down, one to go.