Julie Jay: I bought a supermarket sponge for my son’s birthday cake

It turns out a treehouse pales in comparison to a tractor duvet and a birthday gift bag, but on the plus side at least we avoided the bouncing castle

Picture: iStock 

My baby is three. It’s hard to believe, but it’s also hard to conceive of a time when he wasn’t here. He is a joy, if a little averse to going to bed; but nobody, bar my saviour Miriam O'Callaghan, is perfect.

His birthday fell on a Tuesday, and I had full intentions of baking a cake; but because I am clearly a terrible, terrible mother, I ended up buying a supermarket sponge — which did just fine.

Due to the fact that he has yet to start school, his social circle is small, and so I arranged for a little get-together of family members to celebrate his big ‘zero three’, deciding we could probably get away without the bouncing castle for one more year.

Present-wise, I didn’t buy anything specific, because in a bit of a manic moment when we moved into our gaff a few weeks ago, I purchased a treehouse, which I explained away by mumbling about a “double birthday present” and potentially Airbnb-ing it for Other Voices.

In case you think I’m being facetious, in my experience, all you need is to throw some fairy lights around and Dublin hipsters will happily pay through the nose for the pleasure.

I knew he would be spoiled rotten by his nana and grand-aunts, so I ended up only buying him a card and some new crayons because surely purchasing a treehouse that may or may not have required planning permission from the county council was enough of a birthday gift?

The morning started strong with our usual birthday breakfast of chocolate pancakes and my auntie arriving bearing gifts with such perfect timing even a medieval bell ringer would have had to take his hat off.

Her presents were a big hit: A Peppa Pig water bottle, a tractor duvet set, and construction activity books to keep us distracted while Number One was away at a morning rugby camp.

Number Two was so thrilled with his stash that he demanded I dress his bed immediately in his new set and returned to his bedroom at various intervals throughout the day to admire his new agricultural aesthetic.

It was adorable until he disappeared from the dinner table and I found him eating a burger in bed, which everyone knows is only allowed after the pub and even then only when you are nursing a broken heart.

The afternoon was punctuated with some lovely surprise visitors, and my husband enjoyed pretending every time somebody crossed the threshold that the balloons and banners were actually for them. To be fair, it really didn’t get old, even when the guy calling was only there to build the shed.

By the time the actual party rolled around, he was exhausted in the way only a three-year-old on his birthday could be.

I headed off to pick up one grandaunt, leaving my husband under strict instructions that under no circumstances was he to let the child fall asleep. I returned to find the child fast asleep, and multiple family members waiting for the child to blow his candles out.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to blow candles out while asleep, but it’s really hard; so we had to wake him up, which went about as well as you’d expect.

And so it was that we ended up with a birthday video which will never again see the light of day.

I watched it back once, and I’m still not in the better of it: It is virtually impossible to hear the tuneless singing of Happy Birthday over Number Two screaming ‘stop singing’ and wailing as if he had just been awoken by fire, which he technically had, in the form of three terrifying candles.

Fortunately, he perked up once the singing abated and he got to blow out his candles not once, not twice, but three times — which I’m pretty sure means he gets extra wishes to play around with for the next 12 months.

Myself and my two grandaunts ate some cake as the kids retired to the sitting room, and we laughed about things we probably shouldn’t have been laughing about at what was still technically a child’s party. 

Two days later, his nana arrived, and the birthday celebrations began all over again. As per usual, she got so many tiny wonderful things that brought nothing but pure delight and made me feel a little bad for my lack of creativity when it came to the small stuff.

“Just remember I got the treehouse,” I reminded him as he kept returning to his birthday bag, which nana had purchased for him.

“Maybe we try the treehouse again,” I suggested, to no avail, as he discovered he could also wear his paper gift bag as a hat.

Colouring books, perfect cards, clothes, pyjamas, stickers, and a magnifying bug-collector set — it’s safe to say the stash could only be curated by a retired primary teacher.

With my other auntie giving a generous amount of money ostensibly for a 99, it’s safe to say Number Two had a great day at the office.

If anyone is looking for accommodation in West Kerry for the foreseeable, please know I have a cosy treehouse space ideal for families.

Access is unfortunately only by plastic slide, but for Other Voices, accommodation options are limited.

DM for deets.