THE WHITE-FACED children who crept upstairs on Saturday morning were on a mission. They needed to know exactly when Fiona's father was coming downstairs for the Birthday Surprise.

Immediately a feeling of dread swept over my dazed Sunday morning mind - oh no, not a surprise. I should have known: Fiona's friend Susan had stayed overnight and they had departed to bed without a single complaint at a much earlier hour than usual (highly suspicious behaviour from two children who normally beg and cajole to stay up until midnight at least).

I tiptoed downstairs after them to get more detail on their latest enterprise. As I pushed open the door of the kitchen I was hit in the face by a dangling spiral of paper, suspended from the newly painted ceiling by a blob of blue-tack large enough to hold up a book. And it was not alone. The ceiling was festooned with coloured paper.

On the wall (also newly-painted) was an enormous banner - eight pages of copy book had been stuck together to form a multi-coloured "Happy Birthday" banner. It ran from the fireplace right over to the fridge.

The kitchen counters were full of teddy bears and fluffy dogs and cats all wearing pointed paper party hats, liberally strewn with glitter glue. And over them, at least 20 pieces of coloured paper fluttered in the breeze, suspended from the kitchen presses by yet more blue-tack.

The mouth of the fireplace was covered with a coloured slinky and a multi-coloured caterpillar was wrapped up in a glittering Christmas decoration, flanked by a purple bear with a coloured paper ruff.

And yes, the couches were also crowded with stuffed animals, wearing scraps of lace, paper and coloured material. The window was adorned with two balloons - each with laughing faces.

And where were the perpetrators? Prone on the couch - whey-faced and crumpled but still determined to hide and jump out shouting "Surprise!" when the Birthday Dad appeared.

So, how did you manage all this, I asked weakly - working myself up to say "it's really lovely". (Subtext: how many hours cleaning up are there facing me? And exactly how much glue was spilled? And how much of a mess did the markers make on the furniture?)

"We set the alarm to go off every hour during the night (my child-free sister had given our daughter a talking clock which announces the time in pure Americanese each time a button is pushed) and we made the decorations and we took out all the teddies... Where are the candles? Can we do the cake now?"

It's 8 a.m. and all hopes of a birthday lie-in are departing. "Tell us when he's coming downstairs but don't let him know about the surprise."

The happy twosome hide under the table and behind the door in anticipation. When the door opens they scream "Surprise!"

Yes, being thritysomething can be a restful experience. Anyone for chocolate fudge cake?