We hosted a sixth birthday party for Ellie at an indoor play land on the weekend.

Upon arrival, there were a few, random kids whose parents were sipping coffee, playing on their ipads and relaxing while their kids slid and jumped in a pit filled with colourful balls, having some unfettered fun in the giant germ punch bowl.

Minutes after our party started, coffee cups were knocked out of unsuspecting parent’s hands, ipads smashed, the inmates had taken over the asylum.

I assured the parents of the eleven kids in our care we would do our best not to lose anyone.

We tried our best.

I spent the entire afternoon reciting names in my mind like they were the seven dwarfs; Sleepy, Happy, Dopey, Grumpy, Sneezy, Bashful and Doc, Sleepy, Happy, Dopey, Grumpy, Sneezy, Bashful and Doc……

The dwarfs weren’t the worst analogy. We could almost always find someone wiping their nose on their sleeve, someone grumbling about being left out or sliding too fast, someone just lost period, someone too shy to speak, someone beaming from ear to ear with excitement, someone dozing off in their cake and someone wearing a fake stethoscope with a pocketful of Band-Aids. Also, there was a disproportionate amount of beard grooming.

We made it through the three hour party without losing anyone, at least not any longer than a couple of minutes.

I checked my list and then I checked it twice. Sleepy had been picked up—check. Happy—check, Sneezy—achoo! Even though I crossed every one of the eleven names from my list, I can’t help but wonder if my heart will pound out of my chest around midnight as I remember Doc is still somewhere in that pit of balls.