Reading the story of escalating harassment that unfolded between two mothers at a Jewish primary school , one of the more extraordinary aspects is that the whole sorry saga started with an invitation to a child's birthday party. How ridiculous, you might think. Who could possibly get so upset over something so trivial?
Clearly, you have never been the parent of a primary school child. Almost all of us bear the scars of the birthday party broiges. One day you are the playground mum hiding invitations under your coat, avoiding the eye of the woman with a son your child privately calls "Meanie Milo". The next, you're the one comforting your own little darling, as they sob piteously into their pillow, because they haven't made the cut for Ellie's pottery-painting bonanza.
Schools usually advise inviting everyone in the class. But head teachers aren't the ones trying to squeeze 32 over-sugared seven-year-olds into a rabbit-hutch flat, or forking out to take them paint-balling at £20 a head once you've factored in transport, pizzas and several hundred paintballs.
My children are teenagers, and our party concerns are more about policing alcohol consumption and restricting numbers. But I still remember the pain inflicted by one little girl in pre-school who gleefully proclaimed that as she was four, she was only allowed four guests for her birthday. There were six girls in the class. She dragged out the suspense for months as the girls competed for the golden ticket. She, of course, was invited to everyone's party. When her birthday finally arrived, every girl had an invitation.
I never knew if the girl's mother had encouraged this popularity ploy or not, but it ensured her daughter's place as queen bee for years.
A few years later, my son, then six, was having a joint party with another boy. The entertainment was pefect - laser fighting - the Spiderman cake was impressive, the party bags were bursting with chocolate and plastic tat. But trouble loomed. Over the years, parents had agreed a Birthday Treaty, in which it was agreed that once a date had been booked and invitations had gone out, no one would hold a rival party. A new family had arrived from Russia, and decided that little Sofia's party would be on the same day, and the same time. Carefully, I explained their breach of protocol. "You have the boys and we'll have the girls," came the reply.
Several weeks of English frostiness (me) and Russian intransigence (them) ensued, but peace talks were ultimately unsuccessful. The girls were mere pawns in the middle of this territorial dispute. In the end, several came to our party for a quick laser skirmish, leaving before we'd sliced up Spiderman. Additionally, my son was cross because his co-celebrant thought the party was his alone. It's not easy to explain the concept of cost-splitting celebrations to a six-year-old on his actual big day.
Talking to friends, many have tales of party woes. Often the hardest hit are children with special needs, who are often excluded, or have no takers when they hand out invitations. "Parties should be a time for teaching children to be inclusive and share," said one mum. "Yet for us they are sad occasions when my daughter feels completely left out."
Other disputes highlight social divides. As another friend told me: "The mother of the party child didn't like the family of the other child. She was the only girl in the class not invited. The mother of the uninvited child tried to speak to the party mother in the playground and she was so rude and dismissive that the uninvited mother lost it and slapped her.
"It all went very downhill from there and both had to be removed from the playground. The real shame was that the girls were true friends and didn't care about class or status, they just liked each other. The girls were only seven and it broke both of their hearts."
Another friend arranged a pony-riding party for her daughter: "It was pay per head, so I had to be quite thoughtful about numbers. One girl said she was coming, and then she didn't turn up. We waited for a bit before we started on the cake but she never showed. I saw her mother a few days later and she said nothing. So I asked why her daughter had not come. She told me her daughter had riding lessons anyway so it wasn't interesting enough for her. She'd missed the whole point of a birthday party being about the celebrant!"
Guest list disputes are just the start of it. One mother I know was distraught after another left an anonymous note for her to find after her daughter's sixth birthday party ("You may be interested to know that my child is severely allergic to nuts. Perhaps you will think again before serving peanut butter cookies another time.") Another was furious that the going-home present from a pirate party was a very realistic scimitar, with which her son attempted to behead his sister's teddies. And one threw a football party, and had a message afterwards from parents telling her that their son had possibly broken his arm but not to worry because "they wouldn't be taking the matter further." Luckily the arm was strained not broken, "but we felt we'd dodged something that could have been serious."
Some parents get creative. Too creative. One friend planned a superhero party. "We spent ages making our own 'bomb' piñata with a sparkler in the top for the fuse. My husband was the super-villain. He was to come in, plant the bomb and try to steal the cake. He planted the bomb. Cue hysterical children. One of the older brothers attacked him and ripped his shirt. Then this bigger boy stamped on the 'bomb', destroying the piñata instantly."
Undaunted, the same couple threw a Scooby Doo party for their son's fifth. "I decorated the scout hut as 'the old haunted scout hut' I made a full sized mystery machine out of mdf, I organised a load of craft activities and planned a whole Scooby Doo mystery, complete with secret messages and clues.
"I was Velma and my husband was Shaggy, my daughter was Daphne and my son Fred, and drafted in some mates to be the old scout master and random old lady with warnings. I got another one to be the ghost. I did a thing where I lost my glasses and Daphne was kidnapped. I had a whole trap planned - the kids were going to set it up with camouflage netting. The party was going great until the ghost started popping up. Early sightings were exciting, but I hadn't realised my mate was a thwarted Robert Downey Jr who had turned up with a Freddy Kruger mask and the most terrifying voice you've ever heard. By half way through the party most of the kids were hysterical with terror and my son spent the next six months informing me that we couldn't walk past the scout hut because it was haunted!"
As for presents, it's almost impossible to get it right unless there's a tacit agreement that you put a tenner in the birthday card every time. Otherwise you either look flash or mean. No wonder some mothers set up the Big Birthday Appeal, to encourage charitable giving to Jewish charities, instead of the endless round of Peppa Pigs and Playmobil.
Why do children's parties bring out the worst in so many parents? Blame the explosive mix of emotion, money and sugar. Blame sky-high expectations and family pressure. Put it down to bad manners, and lack of consideration for others.
But consider the alternative: no parties, no fun, no happy memories or stories to tell.
It has got to be worth it.
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