Happy Birthday

The flimsy white paper plate buckles underneath the weight of sausage rolls, ham sandwiches, cubed cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks and everything else I see her plump hands snatch from the table. My daughter cries, there’s no food left and she only ate two biscuits. I say nothing; nor do I point out to the miserable, hungry children that the fat lady is eating it all. On she goes, her greedy hamster cheeks chewing and chewing, not stopping until all that’s left is a grease smudge from the pizza and a hateful spatter of cake crumbs.