My sister’s friend’s baby turned 2 this week. I went for the party; I’d assumed it would be a cake and wafers kind of affair, but a little cooler and plus alcohol (because you know, parties are different when parents belong to this side of the generation gap). But this was no small-scale homey affair. There was a hired hotel and an Emcee and a dance floor and a clown and wine and several kinds of pasta and finger foods on toothpicks and waiters to carry them around.
And babies. An entire dance floor full of them scrabbling for balloons and cake and front row seats for the clown. I was entertained.
They were enthralled. When you’re less than three feet high, clowns are pretty much Magic. And when the music came on, most of them danced. Their mothers with them. And I stood in my small corner, watching and feeling happy and growing somewhat tipsy. And thought of the Nick Cave I’d been reading just about an hour ago..
‘You are the most luminous object in the universe..’
They were. And I wished someone would tell them to work hard at shining as long as they could. Because these are things that fade fast. They’ll all be older soon, and flawed. And nobody will love them again like their mothers did, back when they were 2 years old and clowns were simply Magic.