Albert’s birthday party

Mum knew it was going to be a long day when she found glitter in her shoe before they’d even left the house.

Not just a little glitter.

A confident amount of glitter.

The kind that said, this day will not go to plan.

“Right,” Mum said, standing in the hallway with coats, a gift bag, and the expression of someone mentally preparing for battle, “we are going to Albert’s birthday party.”

Barry cheered. “SOFT PLAY!”

Marmaduke cheered louder. “SOFT PLAY PARTY!”

Alfie looked up from his book. “Statistically, these events rarely go smoothly.”

Mum nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Alfie. Very reassuring.”

Dad, safely positioned in the kitchen with a cup of tea and absolutely no responsibility, called out, “You’ll be fine!”

Mum stared at him.

“You said that last time.”

“Yes,” Dad said. “And I survived.”

“You got stuck in a tunnel.”

“That was a one-off.”

Barry shouted, “HE GOT STUCK!”

Marmaduke added, “A staff member had to help!”

Mum closed her eyes briefly. “Excellent. I feel very confident.”

They got into the car.

Barry in one seat.

Marmaduke in the other.

The present—Albert’s present—sat between them.

Bright.

Tempting.

Suspiciously interesting.

“Do not open that,” Mum said immediately.

Barry nodded. “We won’t.”

Marmaduke nodded. “We respect presents.”

There was a pause.

A quiet pause.

A thinking pause.

Barry leaned slightly.

“…What do you think it is?”

Marmaduke leaned slightly. “Maybe a dinosaur.”

“Maybe a robot.”

“Maybe both.”

Mum checked her mirrors.

Focused on the road.

Driving.

Trusting.

This was her mistake.

A small rustle.

A tiny tear.

A very careful investigation.

“Just a little look,” Barry whispered.

“Tiny look,” Marmaduke agreed.

The paper came off.

Not all of it.

Just enough.

To see inside.

“…It’s a car,” Barry said.

Marmaduke gasped. “A good car.”

“A very good car.”

“Put it back,” Barry said.

“Yes,” Marmaduke agreed.

They did not put it back.

By the time Mum pulled into the car park—

The present was… different.

Still there.

Still technically wrapped.

But definitely… explored.

“Right,” Mum said, turning around, “everyone out—”

She stopped.

Looked at the present.

Looked at the boys.

Paused.

“…Why does that look… opened?”

Barry smiled.

“…It’s breathing.”

Marmaduke nodded. “We checked it.”

Mum took a deep breath.

A long breath.

A patient breath.

“You opened Albert’s present.”

“Just a bit,” Barry said.

“To make sure it was good,” Marmaduke added.

Mum closed her eyes.

“…We will fix it.”

Inside soft play, chaos was already underway.

Children running.

Parents hovering.

Music playing.

Someone shouting about juice.

Albert stood proudly by a table.

Birthday badge on.

Cake behind him.

Happiness everywhere.

“Happy birthday!” Barry shouted.

“Happy birthday!” Marmaduke echoed.

Albert smiled. “Thank you!”

Mum handed over the present.

Carefully.

Strategically.

With the damaged side facing away.

Albert’s mum smiled. “That’s lovely!”

Mum smiled back.

“…Yes.”

“SOFT PLAY!” Barry shouted.

And he was gone.

Marmaduke followed.

Of course he did.

Mum sat down.

Exhaled.

For approximately three seconds. As her therapist had recommended.

“Where are they?” she muttered.

Inside the structure, Barry was already climbing.

Up.

Higher.

Higher.

To the rope bridge.

“I am Spider-Man!” he shouted.

Marmaduke looked up. “You are very high.”

“I am very brave!”

“You are very high and brave!”

Barry grabbed the rope.

Swung slightly.

Wobbled slightly.

Grinned widely.

Below—

The cake table.

The very important cake table.

Mum looked up.

Saw Barry.

Saw the rope.

Saw the angle.

And in that exact moment—

Knew.

“BARRY—” she started.

Too late.

The rope slipped.

Barry swung.

Not gracefully.

Not heroically.

But definitely dramatically.

And then—

FLOP. Into the cake.

Silence.

Complete silence.

Barry sat there.

In the cake.

Frosting on his face.

Icing in his hair.

A small candle stuck to his sleeve.

“…I landed,” he said.

Albert stared.

His mum stared.

Mum stared.

Everyone stared.

Marmaduke gasped. “You are cake.”

Mum stood up.

Slowly.

Walked over.

Very calmly.

Too calmly.

“Barry,” she said, “why are you in the cake?”

Barry thought.

“…Spider-Man misjudged.”

Albert’s mum blinked.

“…We can fix it.”

“No,” Mum said quickly. “We’ll fix it.”

Barry stood up.

Bits of cake falling off him.

Still smiling.

Still proud.

“I saved it,” he said.

“You did not save it,” Mum replied.

Meanwhile—

Elsewhere in the chaos—

Marmaduke had found the ball pit.

“BALLS!” he shouted.

And jumped in.

At first—

It was perfect.

Colourful.

Bouncy.

Wonderful.

Then—

Something changed.

Marmaduke paused.

Looked around.

Looked at Barry (still being wiped).

Looked back at the balls.

“…I feel funny,” he said.

There was a moment.

A very small moment.

Then—

Oh no.

Marmaduke stood up.

Very still.

Very pale.

“Uh oh,” he said.

And then—

The ball pit was no longer just balls.

A nearby parent froze.

Another parent slowly backed away.

A third whispered, “Oh dear.”

Mum turned.

Saw Marmaduke.

Saw the situation.

Paused.

“…Of course,” she said.

Barry, still slightly cake-covered, looked over.

“…That’s worse than cake.”

Marmaduke nodded weakly. “Yes.”

Mum moved quickly.

Very quickly.

Crisis mode.

Albert’s mum appeared.

Still calm.

Still smiling.

Somehow.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“It’s not fine,” Mum replied.

“It’s a party.”

“That is not party behaviour.”

Staff appeared.

Efficient.

Professional.

Clearly experienced.

“Don’t worry,” one said.

“We’ve seen worse.”

Mum blinked. “…You have?”, assuming the ‘worse’ had left in a bodybag.

“Oh yes.”

Barry leaned over to Marmaduke.

“You made history.”

Marmaduke sighed. “I feel bad.”

Eventually—

Things were cleaned.

Children were redirected.

Cake was… adjusted.

Albert still got to blow out candles.

On a slightly smaller, slightly reshaped cake.

“Happy birthday!” everyone sang.

Barry sang loudly.

Marmaduke sang softly.

Mum… sat down.

Afterwards, Mum gathered them.

“Right,” she said.

“We are going home.”

In the car—

Barry leaned back.

“That was amazing.”

Marmaduke nodded. “Best party.”

Mum looked in the mirror.

“…Best party?”

“Yes,” Barry said. “There was cake.”

“You fell in the cake.”

“Yes.”

“There was also… the ball pit situation.”

Marmaduke sighed. “I didn’t mean to.”

Mum softened.

“I know.”

There was a pause.

“Did Albert like his present?” Barry asked.

Mum paused.

“…He seemed… surprised.”

Barry smiled.

“Good.”

At home, Dad looked up.

“How was it?”

Mum walked in.

Sat down.

Looked at him.

“…Educational,” she said.

Barry grinned.

“I was Spider-Man.”

Marmaduke added, “I found the ball pit.”

Dad nodded slowly.

“…I’m glad I stayed home.”

Alfie looked at them.

“…I assume everything went wrong.”

Mum smiled tiredly.

“…Yes.”

And as the day ended, one thing was clear:

Soft play parties

Were unpredictable.

Messy.

Slightly chaotic.

But also—

Unforgettable.

Even if some people

Would rather forget

The ball pit.