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28 min read
A kids birthday party costs roughly what you decide it costs, and the expensive ones are not reliably the good ones. We have been sending food out to Brisbane birthdays from our Fortitude Valley kitchen since 2005 — back yards, park shelters, church halls, lounge rooms with the furniture pushed against the wall — and the parties that work tend to share the same three things. They are short. The savoury food goes out early. And there is one adult whose only job is the table.
What follows is the budget version of a child's birthday, written from the delivery end rather than the inspiration end. Where a number appears it is a number we pack to: how many pieces a child actually eats, how long a tray lasts on a table in the sun, how far ahead a cake has to be ordered, and which of the things on your list will be in the bin by Sunday.
A child's birthday has four lines on the invoice: the place, the food, the entertainment and the thing everybody takes home. Held at home, the first line is zero. The other three are where budgets quietly go, and they go for reasons that have nothing to do with generosity.

The biggest of them is over-ordering. Parents order for the number of invitations sent rather than the number of replies received, and a fifth of a kids' guest list does not turn up on the day — a temperature on Friday night, a sports carnival nobody mentioned, a sibling with the same thing. Order for confirmed heads plus two and you will still have food left, because the second reason for over-ordering is that children eat about half what an adult guest eats and roughly a third of what people expect them to eat. Kids' parties produce more leftover food than any other event we cater. Nobody plans for that, and everybody discovers it at six o'clock while wrapping trays in cling film.
The second is breadth. A table with nine different things on it costs far more than a table with four, and the children eat the same four. Pick a small number of items and have enough of each. A tray that runs out looks generous. Nine trays with a third left in each looks like money.
The third is per-child spending — the loot bag, the personalised cup, the favour with a name on it. The contents are separated in the car on the way home and most of it is gone by Monday. A slice of cake wrapped in a napkin at the door does the same job for nothing, and it is the only part of a party bag anyone has ever been pleased about.
Where the money is worth spending, in order:
It is also worth knowing that catering a child's party is not a scaled-down version of catering an adult one. The portions are smaller, the eating window is shorter and far more concentrated, the food has to survive being carried around a garden by someone who is four, and at least one guest cannot eat something. Plan for those four facts and the budget mostly takes care of itself.

Home is free, which is the whole argument for it, but it is not free of work. What a venue quietly supplies is space you do not have to clear, a bin that is not yours, and somebody else to mop. Deciding to host at home is deciding to do those three jobs, and the party runs better if you plan for them rather than discover them.
Set the food table before you think about anything else, and put it somewhere children do not run past. A table on the route between the back door and the trampoline gets knocked twice an hour. Against a wall, out of the traffic, with the cake at the end furthest from the door, is the arrangement that survives.
Then find shade for it. In Brisbane this matters more than anything else on the list. Buttercream is comfortable to about twenty-five degrees and starts to move above that, and a west-facing deck passes twenty-five well before ten in the morning for a good part of the year. Even for an outdoor party, keep the food itself inside or under solid cover and let the children be the ones in the sun. It solves the flies at the same time.
Two more things a caterer notices about home parties. Sugar on the ground in a Brisbane back yard has ants on it within about twenty minutes, so nothing goes on the grass — not the esky with its lid open, not the drinks tub, not a tray set down for a second. And you will run out of bin before you run out of food. Put a second bin, lined and open, right beside the food table; the plates end up in it instead of on the ground, and the clean-up afterwards takes ten minutes rather than an hour.
The other advantage of home is timing. We deliver to more than fifty Brisbane suburbs, from $19 on orders over $150, next day on anything ordered before 4pm, and Saturday at the same rate as a weekday — so a Saturday party is a Friday afternoon decision rather than a week of shopping. There is no last-minute surcharge. If the party starts early, pick-up from 159 Knapp St, Fortitude Valley, opens at 7am, which is what most morning-party parents do.
Decorations are the easiest line to cut and, for some reason, the last one anybody cuts. It helps to be honest about who they are for. Children notice two things: a balloon they are allowed to hold, and the table the cake is on. The rest is for the adults and for the photographs, which is a perfectly good reason to have some — but it means you can put all of it in one place instead of spreading it thinly across a house.

So build one dense corner. Bunting, balloons and colour concentrated behind the cake table, and nothing anywhere else. Every photograph of the day will be taken from the same three metres, facing that wall. A single foil number balloon and one thick line of homemade bunting behind the cake photographs better than four rooms of streamers, and costs about a tenth as much.
The one rule we would enforce if we could: nothing that sheds goes near the food. Glitter, confetti, loose sequins, table scatter, anything sprayed from a can. Once that lands on an open platter the platter is finished, and we have watched a full spread go in the bin thirty seconds after a confetti popper was set off in the wrong direction. If there is going to be confetti, it happens outside and away from the table, ideally after the food has been eaten.
A few more that come from cleaning up after other people's decorating. Do not hang balloons directly above food — they come down eventually, and they come down while everyone is looking somewhere else. Do not drape crepe streamers over anything warm, because they sag and the dye runs. And the best value decoration in the whole category is a roll of butcher's paper taped down as a tablecloth with a jar of crayons on top: it decorates the table, it entertains the children who sit down early, it absorbs the spills, and at the end of the party the entire table clears in one movement.
Quantity first, because it is the number everyone gets wrong in the same direction. Four or five small pieces per child, eight to ten for each adult who stays, over a two-hour party. If the invitation says 11am and you have not said otherwise, half the parents will assume lunch is included, so either feed them properly or write the words on the invitation. That one sentence changes the order by a third.

Children eat with their eyes and their hands, and they eat by shape and colour rather than by flavour. A beige table does not get eaten. Cut fruit on a skewer disappears; the same fruit in a bowl comes home. Sandwiches cut into fingers or pressed out with a cutter go at roughly twice the rate of the identical sandwich cut into squares, which is a silly fact and a completely reliable one.

The rest of it is about how food behaves once it is out of the kitchen, and this is the part nobody tells you:
For a spread that mostly looks after itself, lean on the food that is honestly good at room temperature — sandwich fingers, savoury pastries, mini quiche, skewers, cheese, cut fruit — and add one hot thing rather than four. That is the whole logic behind how we pack birthday party food: things that arrive as they will be eaten, with the wet components sent separately.

Then the birthday cake, which is a separate calculation from everything else. A six-inch round is about twelve party slices. A nine-inch is roughly thirty once it is cut at party size, and party size is smaller than anyone cuts it at home — children take two bites and put the plate down, so cut small and cut a second round later if it goes. If the guest list is large or the party is in a park, cupcakes beat a cake: one each plus four spares, no knife, no plates, and they survive a car boot in a way a decorated cake does not.
Order it first. Decorated cakes and cupcakes need two to three business days because they are built rather than iced at the last minute, and a themed cake is a build. Everything else on the table can be ordered the day before against a 4pm cut-off; the cake cannot.
Look after it once it is home. Buttercream holds to about twenty-five degrees and then begins to slide. Fondant hates the fridge — cold makes it sweat, and a fondant cake taken back out into a Brisbane afternoon beads with moisture within minutes. The right place for a cake before a party is a cool room with the door shut, not the kitchen bench where the oven is and not the table under the speaker.
Cut it about two-thirds of the way through the party rather than at the end. Parents leave in one block, usually ten minutes after the first one goes, and a cake cut at the very end is a cake half the room never sees. Somewhere around the ninety-minute mark, while everyone is still in the same place and still hungry, is the moment.
On candles: use number candles for anyone over about five and ordinary candles for the little ones. A three-year-old cannot blow out a ring of small flames and will lean in and breathe on the cake for a while instead, which is charming for the first fifteen seconds. Light them at the table, not on the bench, and have the photograph taken before the singing starts rather than after.
Home-baked is genuinely fine if you want to do it. A box mix made with buttermilk instead of water is a real improvement, and homemade buttercream costs almost nothing. What goes wrong is scheduling, not skill: people bake and decorate on the morning of the party and then spend the party recovering. Bake the day before, decorate the day before, and let the morning be about sandwiches and ice.
The skill in a kids' party is not choosing games. It is ordering them. Get the sequence right and a party runs itself on twenty dollars of craft paper; get it wrong and a hired entertainer cannot save it.

The shape that works, near enough every time: twenty minutes of free play while everyone arrives, because they arrive over twenty minutes no matter what the invitation says. Then thirty minutes of organised games, while they are fresh and will still listen. Then food. Then cake. Then something quiet — craft, a film, drawing on the paper tablecloth — for the last stretch while parents come back.
Two rules inside that. Never run a chasing game straight after the cake; a child who eats and then sprints is the child who is sick in the hallway, and it happens at roughly one party in five. And plan more games than you need, then stop each one while it is still fun. A game that runs until they are bored takes the next game down with it.
For a group under about ten, one organised adult with a whistle and a list beats a paid entertainer, and the money is better spent on the cake. Above about fifteen, an extra pair of adult hands is worth more than anything you could buy. Keep prizes small and make sure everyone ends up with something, or the third game will be abandoned in tears and negotiation.

Sack races, egg-and-spoon, tug of war, kick the can, statues, and a treasure hunt with painted rocks that double as the take-home. None of it costs anything and all of it works, which is why it has survived a hundred years of better-funded competition.
The treasure hunt earns a special mention from our side of the table, because it is the only game we actively recommend running near the food. A hunt pulls children outwards, away from the trays, and gives you twenty clear minutes to set out the second wave without six people helping. Everything else should be run at the far end of the yard.
Brisbane adds its own rules to the list. A game in full sun lasts about ten minutes before the first child sits down in the shade and the rest follow, so run the active games in the first half of the party or under the trees. Hold water play until after the cake — the moment children are wet they stop eating entirely, and then they get cold and want to go inside, which ends the party an hour early. Never set food down on the grass, for the same ant reason as before. And have an indoor version of every outdoor game written down somewhere, because a summer afternoon here can turn into a storm in twenty minutes and the party still has an hour to run.
Have the last game be a slow one. Musical statues, or a sit-down hunt for something small. It brings the noise level down before the food comes out, and a room that has been brought down eats; a room still running does not.

A craft corner does two jobs for one price: it entertains, and it produces the thing each child takes home, which means you do not buy party bags. Paper crowns, masks, decorated pots, friendship bracelets, salt dough, painted rocks — all of it works, and all of it works better if there is a finished example on the table so nobody has to imagine the outcome.
Put it at the opposite end of the space from the food. Glue, paint and glitter do not share a table with anything anyone is going to eat, and a craft corner set up next to an open platter is how a platter gets thrown away. If the craft involves glitter, it lives outside.
The crossover that earns its place is decorate-your-own cupcakes, because it is the activity, the food and the take-home in a single item. Plain cupcakes, a few small bowls of sprinkles and chopped lollies, a paddle pop stick each instead of a knife, and a box to carry the result home in. There is a practical bonus: plain undecorated cupcakes are cheaper than decorated ones and can be ordered against the 4pm cut-off for next-day delivery, while decorated cupcakes need the two to three business days. You get the decorated look, on a next-day order, done by the guests.
One warning from experience. Keep the icing and the cupcakes in a cool room until the moment the activity starts, not on the table from the beginning. Buttercream at twenty-five degrees is soft, and soft buttercream plus eight children is a surface rather than a decoration.
A film is a closing activity, not a party. One film, started once, with the lights coming up at the end, and it should be the last thing on the timeline rather than the middle of it. A marathon of two is where the party dies quietly: half the room stops watching, wanders off, and starts something you did not plan.

Set it up simply. A sheet on a wall and a borrowed projector if you have one, or just the television with the couch pushed back and cushions and beanbags on the floor. Homemade tickets at the door are the sort of small touch children take seriously.
Food-wise, this is popcorn's moment and popcorn's only moment, and it needs to be popped or opened as the film starts. In Brisbane humidity it goes chewy within about half an hour of being exposed, so a bowl made in advance is a bowl nobody finishes. Serve it in individual paper cups instead of a shared bowl. Nobody carries a full bowl across a dark room successfully, and single cups mean one spill instead of one disaster.
Dry food only in a dark room, on someone's carpet, at somebody else's house. No sauce, no dip, nothing that needs two hands. And here is the useful part: sitting still is when children eat again. Put the cut fruit out at the start of the film and it goes in the dark in a way it never does on a bright table with something more interesting nearby.
Bring the lights up five minutes before the end so that parents are not collecting a child from a dark pile of cushions, and hand out the cake at the door on the way past.
A theme is worth having and it is where most of the money leaks out. The fix is a limit: put the theme in three places and nowhere else. The cake, the invitation, and one activity. That reads as a fully themed party in photographs and costs a fraction of a themed table, themed plates, themed cups, themed napkins and a themed backdrop, none of which any child has ever mentioned afterwards.

Choose it early, for a practical reason. A themed cake is built rather than decorated, which is why decorated cakes and cupcakes take two to three business days rather than a day. Deciding on the theme a fortnight out and ordering the cake then is the difference between the cake you pictured and the cake that was possible on Thursday.
Watch the colours you are asking for. Themes that need deep blue, black or strong red icing cost more to make and stain everything they touch — mouths, teeth, party clothes, the hired tablecloth, and every photograph taken in the following hour. Colour the cake and keep the rest of the table its natural colour. It also happens to look better.
Borrow rather than buy: the library has the books and films, other parents have the costume box, and a theme assembled from four households costs nothing and looks more interesting than a boxed kit. And remember that the theme is over by the time they eat. Children in costume eat with one hand and put things down in strange places, so whatever you have made them wear, expect to find some of it under the table with a sausage roll.
The reliable version is capes and masks made at the craft table in the first half hour, an obstacle course through the yard as the main game, and a cake with a bold colour block on it. Children arrive already knowing how to play this one, which is most of the work done.

On the food, the trick is to rename rather than recolour. Calling ordinary sandwiches, skewers and pastries by hero names costs nothing and children accept it completely. Dyeing food blue costs money, stains, and produces a platter that reads grey under a party light and photographs worse than the food it started as.
We do not put licensed characters on cakes, and it is worth knowing you lose nothing by that. A bold two-colour cake with a star, a bolt or a shield shape reads instantly to a five-year-old, it is what a decorator can actually build well in the time, and it does not end up as a wobbly printed sheet lying on the top of a cake. Children are far more literal than adults expect: the right colours and one strong shape is the character, as far as they are concerned.
One practical note. Capes at a food table knock things over — they trail behind a child at exactly the height of a tray edge. Either have the capes come off to eat, or accept the cost and keep the cake somewhere a cape cannot reach it.
Tiaras, wands, a cardboard castle taped together from two boxes, and a crown for the birthday child that is slightly better than everyone else's. This is the cheapest theme to run because most of it is made from what is already in the recycling.

It is also the theme that most often pulls a table towards pastel and sweet, and that is the one thing worth resisting. A table of mostly sweet food does not get eaten as thoroughly as people expect. Children go at the savoury first and hard, then the cake, and the third plate of biscuits comes home. Keep it about two-thirds savoury however delicate the theme looks.
The other thing worth knowing is that this is the theme that suits a seated table, and a seated party is the caterer's favourite kind. If the children sit down for a tea party rather than orbiting a standing table, the mess halves and the eating roughly doubles, because a seated child eats what is in front of them instead of taking one thing and running. Small sandwiches pressed out with a cutter, cut fruit, cupcakes, and cups already poured. It is more setup and less clean-up, which is the right trade at four in the afternoon.
An animal party is either a home party with paper-plate masks and a jungle hunt in the yard, or a party at a wildlife sanctuary or a park. The first is cheap and easy. The second is the one that needs planning, because the moment the party leaves the house the food has to change.

A park or venue party means no oven, no fridge, no kitchen bench and usually no bin worth the name. Send only food that is genuinely good at ambient temperature and needs no assembly: sandwich fingers, savoury pastries eaten cold, skewers, cheese, cut fruit, cupcakes. Leave behind anything sauced, anything hot, anything that needs a knife, and anything that has to be dressed on site. Bring more napkins than seems reasonable and a bag for rubbish, because the bin will be full by eleven on a Saturday.
Transport the cake properly or do not transport a cake. A car boot in Brisbane at midday is an oven, and a decorated cake will not survive it. Flat on the floor of the footwell, air conditioning on, nothing on top — never on a lap or a seat, where the first corner undoes an hour of somebody's work. Cupcakes in a box are the honest answer for a park party.
Two more park-party facts. Council shelters generally have to be booked, and the good ones go early, so check shade and a tap at the same time as you check the booking. And the two-hour rule bites much harder outdoors — food sitting in a warm shelter for the length of a party is food that gets eaten there or goes in the bin, not food that goes home in the esky.
A party plan is a timeline, not a shopping list. The list tells you what to buy; the timeline tells you when everything has to exist, which is the part that goes wrong.

Start with the hour. For under-fives, 10am to 12pm — before the nap and before the heat, and it means you are feeding morning tea rather than lunch, which costs less and is what they would rather eat anyway. For school age, 2pm to 4pm. In a Brisbane summer, avoid midday to two entirely; the children stop, the adults retreat to the shade and the food gets warm on the table.
Then write the finish time on the invitation. It is the single most useful sentence in party planning, it costs nothing, and it is the reason some parties end cleanly at four and others are still going at six with three children asleep on a couch.
Now work backwards from the party rather than forwards from today. The cake is the long lead item at two to three business days. The rest of the food is a next-day order against a 4pm cut-off, which means a Saturday party is a Friday afternoon phone call, with no last-minute surcharge for having left it there. Sandwiches and cut fruit are made the day they are eaten and cannot be brought forward; pastries, cakes and cupcakes are made ahead and should be. Anything you can do the night before, do the night before, because the morning of a party has room for exactly one job and it is usually ice.
Finally, give one adult the food table as their only job — putting the second wave out, clearing plates, keeping the lid on things, making sure the child with the allergy gets handed their own tray. It is not a big job. It is just a job that nobody has, at every party where the food quietly goes wrong.
The old rule is as many children as the child is years old, plus one. It is a good rule and almost nobody follows it. For a home party the realistic ceiling is eight to twelve; past that the house stops being big enough and you are running an event rather than a birthday.

The cost per extra child is a straight line — a plate, a chair, a drink and about five pieces of food. The noise and the chaos are not a straight line. They go up in steps, and the steps are at about twelve children and again at about twenty. Between those numbers you can add two guests and not notice; crossing one of them changes what kind of day you are having and how many adults you need.
Order to the RSVPs, not the invitations. Assume around a fifth will not make it, close the RSVP a week before, and order for confirmed heads plus two. And ask the question everyone forgets: are the parents staying, and are there siblings? That is where the numbers actually move. Twelve children can quietly become twelve children, nine adults and five younger siblings, and the adults are the ones who will eat eight pieces each.
If the school asks for whole-class invitations, that is a park party with cupcakes rather than a house party with a cake, and it is cheaper to accept that early than to fight it in a lounge room. A joint party with another family whose child has a birthday nearby halves everything except the cake — order one cake with both names on it rather than two, and split the food bill down the middle.
A digital invitation is free, arrives instantly, and gives you a single list of replies in one place. That last part is the one that saves money, because the RSVP list is what you order against.

Whatever it looks like, it needs to say six things: the start time, the finish time, the address with a note about where to park or which gate, whether a meal is being served or just party food, whether parents are staying or dropping off, and a direct question about allergies. Every one of those is on the list because we have seen its absence cause a problem.
The meal line is the one people leave off most often, and it changes an order by a third. Parents who are not told will either feed their child beforehand — in which case a beautiful table goes uneaten — or assume lunch and arrive with a hungry six-year-old at half past eleven. One sentence settles it.
Set the RSVP date a week before the party, not two days, because the week before is when the cake and the food are ordered. Then chase the non-repliers by message on the day it closes; roughly a third of any kids' guest list needs chasing, and none of them mind.
If the birthday child is old enough to hold a crayon, let them make the invitations. It costs the price of card, it occupies an afternoon, and it is the first part of the party they get to own.
Four weeks out: pick the date, the time and the finish time, write the guest list, send the invitations. Check nothing at school clashes.

Two weeks out: settle the theme, order the cake — two to three business days is the minimum but the good slots go earlier — and work out the three or four food items rather than nine. Borrow what can be borrowed.
One week out: close the RSVPs, count confirmed heads and add two, and place the food order. Write the running order of the day on one piece of paper and stick it on the fridge, because on the day you will not remember what you decided.
The day before: get the order in before the 4pm cut-off for next-day delivery. Freeze a few bottles of water — they chill the esky and become cold drinks by the middle of the party, which is neater than a bag of melting ice. Set up the tables, blow up the balloons, wrap the parcel for pass-the-parcel. Bake and decorate now if you are baking.
The morning: sandwiches and cut fruit only, because those are the two things that genuinely cannot be made ahead. Set the food table with everything covered, put the second bin out, fill the esky, and be finished half an hour before the first guest, because somebody always arrives early.
The single change that saves the most time is having the food delivered instead of shopping for it on the morning. The morning of a party is not a shopping morning; it is the only window you have for the jobs that cannot be done any earlier.
Ask an adult what they remember about their childhood birthdays and you get a very short list: a particular cake, the moment everybody sang, a game that went wrong, and something they took home. Nobody remembers coordinated napkins. That is not a sentimental point, it is a budgeting one — memory comes from one thing done properly, not from six things done adequately.
Photographs are the same. Twenty good ones beat four hundred, and the good ones are all taken at predictable moments: the cake carried in, the candles, and one group shot. Take the group shot in the first twenty minutes, before anyone is sticky, red-faced or missing. Nobody has ever regretted having a photograph of the food table before it was touched, either, and that picture exists for about ninety seconds.
A photo booth is a bedsheet, a length of bunting and a box of props, and it costs whatever the props cost, which should be nothing. A phone on a stack of books with the timer running does the job. Older children will run it themselves for half an hour and produce better pictures than an adult would, because they are not being asked to smile.

Put it away from the food. Props go from hand to face to hand, and hands at a birthday party are covered in icing within the first twenty minutes; a box of props parked beside the cake table is a box of sticky props and a cake with fingerprints on it.
Two things make it work rather than sit unused. A finished example — one photo already taken and propped up beside the props — so children know what it is for. And an adult who takes the first three pictures, after which it runs on its own.
Print a handful afterwards and post them to the guests instead of a party bag. It arrives a week later when the party is over, it costs less than the bag did, and it is the only party favour anyone keeps.
Traditions cost nothing and do most of the work that money is usually spent on. The same cake every year. The same song, sung badly. A mark on a doorframe measured on the morning. The birthday child eating breakfast off a particular plate. Once a family has three of these, the party can be very small indeed and still feel like an occasion.
The one worth adopting if you adopt only one: let the birthday child choose the menu. Not the whole party, not the budget, just the food. It removes the argument, it guarantees they eat, and it turns a decision you were making anyway into the thing they were allowed to decide. Children choose remarkably plainly when asked — sandwiches, sausage rolls, watermelon and a chocolate cake is the answer roughly every time, which is also the cheapest table on the list.
A cupcake with one candle at breakfast is another good one. It starts the day with the moment, which takes the pressure off the party to deliver it, and it means the birthday exists even in the years when there is no party at all.
Older children take to this better than adults expect. A collection instead of presents — for an animal shelter, a food drive, a children's ward — works if the cause is something a child can picture. Making cards at the craft table for someone who will get them is the same idea in an activity, and it fills the quiet half hour at the end without any extra spend.

On the food, one honest note, because this is where good intentions run into food safety. Food that has sat on a table for the length of a party cannot be donated anywhere, and it should not be. That is what the two-hour and four-hour rule means in practice: under two hours it can go back in the fridge, two to four it has to be eaten that day, past four it goes out. Nobody will take a tray that has been in a warm room since eleven, and no reputable charity should.
The version that works is to give it away at the door before it gets there. Wrap the cake in napkins, split the untouched trays into containers as the party thins out, and hand them to parents on the way past. It replaces the party bag, it means the food is eaten rather than binned, and it saves you the six o'clock job with the cling film.
If there is a real surplus, plan for it before the day rather than after — order less, and put the difference into the cake.
A good children's birthday is a short one with enough food out early, one activity with a beginning and an end, and a cake that arrives in the condition it left the kitchen in. The numbers that matter are small and easy to remember: four or five pieces per child and eight to ten per adult, two hours rather than three, order to the RSVP list plus two, two to three business days for a decorated cake, and cut it two-thirds of the way through rather than at the end.
Everything else is optional. Bunting in one dense corner instead of four rooms of it, games that stop while they are still fun, a craft corner that doubles as the party bag, and the food table in the shade with one adult looking after it. That is a party children remember and a bill you do not.
If you would rather not spend the morning making sandwiches, that is the part we can take off the list. Order before 4pm for next-day delivery across more than fifty Brisbane suburbs, from $19 on orders over $150, Saturday at the same rate, or collect from 159 Knapp St in Fortitude Valley from 7am. Everything goes out of that kitchen made by hand on the day.
Concentrate the decorating in one place instead of spreading it through the house. Every photograph will be taken facing the cake table, so one dense line of homemade bunting and a single foil balloon behind it does the whole job. Butcher's paper taped down as a tablecloth with crayons on top is decoration, activity and drop sheet at once, and clears in one movement at the end. Skip the per-child items — the personalised cups and the loot bags are separated in the car and gone by Monday. A slice of cake in a napkin at the door does the same job for nothing.
Fewer items, more of each. Sandwich fingers, sausage rolls or savoury pastries, fruit on skewers, and cupcakes will feed a children's party better than nine different things, and cost far less. Work on four or five small pieces per child and eight to ten for each adult who stays, and order against the RSVP list plus two rather than the invitation list. Cut fruit on a stick gets eaten while the same fruit in a bowl comes home, and a sandwich cut into fingers goes at about twice the rate of the same sandwich cut in squares. Time the party between meals — 10am to 12pm for little ones — and you are serving morning tea rather than lunch.
Order matters more than budget. Twenty minutes of free play as they arrive, half an hour of organised games while they are fresh, then food, then cake, then something quiet like craft or a film for the last stretch. Sack races, treasure hunts with painted rocks, musical statues and a craft corner cost almost nothing and hold a group of ten. Stop each game while it is still fun, keep prizes small enough that everyone gets one, and never run a chasing game straight after the cake. For fewer than about ten children, one organised adult with a list beats a hired entertainer, and the money is better spent on the cake.
Superheroes, fairy tales, animals, pirates, space and dinosaurs are all cheap because children arrive already knowing how to play them. Put the theme in three places only — the cake, the invitation and one activity — and leave the plates and napkins plain; that reads as a fully themed party in photographs at a fraction of the cost. Borrow books, films and costumes rather than buying them, and avoid themes that need deep blue, black or strong red icing, which costs more to make and stains mouths, clothes and every photograph taken afterwards. Decide a fortnight out, because a themed cake needs two to three business days.
Give them decisions that are genuinely theirs rather than jobs that are yours. The menu is the best one: let them choose the food, and you will get sandwiches, sausage rolls, watermelon and a chocolate cake, which is both what they want and the cheapest table you could have built. Let them make or draw the invitations, choose the theme and the cake colours, help write the running order for the day, and set out the craft table the night before. Younger children can blow up balloons and wrap the pass-the-parcel. What does not work is asking an open question about the whole party; a short list of two options gets a decision, and a decision is what they are after.
Annie is the Content Copywriter for Mr T’s Bakery. We make Brisbane business catering easy. With endless variety, exciting menus and an easy to use online platform, keep everyone on track with great food! Placing orders online just in minutes.
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