This weekend, my daughter was invited to a birthday party. She was one of 4 known fae children, in a room containing 30+ youngsters: running around; bouncing on one of 4 bouncy castles; eating candy floss; and generally going manic. It was an interesting study: once you know what to look for, it is very easy to spot the neuro-spicy kids, even in the melee that was going on in there.
First, to set the scene: we were crammed into what I presume during the week is some sort of nursery, but looked like a large village hall. In it were the aforementioned bouncy castles; a small stall where people could get the candy floss; a long table set with kids party food; and the deafening sound of poorly performed Disney cover music. The music was loud enough to drown out the kids screaming and the noise of the generators for the inflatables, and made conversation practically impossible. Why is it necessary to have music at this volume? (Yes, I sound like a grumpy old lady. No, I don’t care).
Ten minutes after arriving, my daughter has climbed the side of a bouncy castle and is allowing the constant motion of the mini-mosh pit from below to rock her to sleep despite the noise. Her fae friend thinks this looks like an excellent perch, and tries to join her, but lacks the physical capability to climb so has to get a boost by climbing on nearby ‘normal’ kids who can’t see the appeal of climbing the sides of their inflatable fortress. Looking around, they are the only two on the side. A third fae child is (in my view, sensibly) wearing ear defenders, and runs past to devour the end of his second stick of candy floss (these were both the size of his head, and required perseverance to consume).
Halfway through the session, I spot my child who has, at some point, ‘lost’ her socks. When interrogated, she reluctantly points to a safety mat where, with some effort, I extract her socks from underneath. She point blankly refuses to put them back on. I try to make her, but I’m still holding her sodding candy floss in one hand – she got an extra large one by looking cute at the stall holder. She doesn’t even LIKE candy floss. I manage to grab her round the waist and haul her like an uncooperative and angry set of flies over to my husband, whilst she dead weights on the floor flapping her legs in the air like a landed fish. The same best friend from the wall-climbing saga thinks this looks like a great dance move and flops down on the safety mats under the inflatable slide and mimics her. I always knew my girl was a leader. Many other neuro-typical children start edging away, somewhat confused. The fae with ear defenders steps over both of them to get more candy floss from his parents.
15 minutes before the end of the session, the final fae child seizes his opportunity: whilst most children and parents are occupied playing musical statues, he decides to take a running jump and somersault down the largest inflatable slide. His parents watch in horror; he flunks the dismount; and lands like a sack of potatoes on the safety mat where his sister was doing the ‘landed fish’ dance earlier. This distracts the staff member running the musical statues game long enough for my daughter to help herself to the prize sweets despite never managing to be a ‘statue’ in her life.
Finally, they are called to sing happy birthday to the birthday girl – of landed fish fame. She is nowhere to be found, until both she and my daughter reappear from an out of bounds area where the slushy machine was located. I pretended not to notice.
During the party tea, my daughter would not eat anything, so I provided her with emergency snacks (trust me all parents of fae carry emergency snacks); the birthday girl only ate the sausage rolls; her brother only ate the cup cakes – of which he had three; and ear defenders had all the bags of vegan cheesy puffs my daughter could steal for him. Every other child ate what was put in front of them. None of them would drink the juice, and all of them left early to go bounce again.
Throughout the party all the other parents sat around, chatted and looked relaxed. I hope they could feel the hate emanating from our haggard corner where no one ate, barely sat down and ended up sticky and covered in half eaten candy floss.
Also, if you find my daughter’s socks: keep ‘em, they’ve probably evolved by now.
Raising the Modern Fae 