“I will absolutely, 100% not be one of those parents who goes overboard on birthday parties. A bit of cake and a few games at home is more than enough.” – Me, 2012.

At our first son’s first birthday we had the obligatory gathering of family, friends and people we barely knew who happened to live close and also have babies, but after that we reverted to the low key celebrations I always knew we would – a trip to the park and a slice of cake with a few close friends.

Pre-parenthood I had no idea that birthday parties had become such big business.

In the last year and a half we’ve been to pool parties, park parties, soft play parties, house parties (no, sadly, not those house parties). We’ve seen a host of invitations from ones grabbed from the counter at Clinton’s to personalised lanyards which make it look like you’re a VIP at Glastonbury. The party bags and sweets my son has come home with have often put the actual birthday gift he took to shame and I remain amazed at the array of talented drama students and wannabe comedians paying their dues as party entertainers.

I can only be thankful that my son is shy and has only a handful of good friends, or I imagine my every weekend would be spent feeling exhausted, overawed and inadequate (of course, that’s most weekends anyway when you’re a mum).

I have fond memories of childhood birthdays. Being summer born has the advantage that all that was needed for a good party was a sunny day, a barbeque and a speaker pointed out of a window. Our organised entertainment rarely stretched beyond a game of pass the parcel or musical statues, always carefully rigged by my mum in favour of whichever child she deemed had the fewest friends.

Yet as much as I vowed I would maintain this level of simplicity, I can’t help but bow to the pressure. What was going to be a party with 4 or 5 guests, has already spread to 15+. What was supposed to be a simple invite quickly became a labour of love. I’ve spent the last hour scouring eBay and Amazon for themed party treats and have continued party planning long after both my sons have lost interest.

I am saved in only one way. Having carefully spent many years passing on my love of books – particularly the genius of Roald Dahl – in just over a weeks’ time I will be opening the doors to bemused parents dressed as Miss Trunchbull, serving Mrs Twit’s wormy spaghetti and sugaring the kids up with Wonka’s finest fizzy lifting drinks.

Plus, if there was ever an excuse for shoving a ‘Frobscottle’ label over a bottle of prosecco and drinking during the day, surely this is it!