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I could barely contain my rage after getting FOUR invitations to children's parties complete with gift lists of presents costing up to £250
Expensive perfume, a designer purse and a £200 gift experience. These are just some of the luxury items on the present list I was expected to buy from.
But I was not treating a treasured family member or a close friend celebrating a milestone birthday.
No, the haul was for a seven-year-old girl who’s at school with my daughter, and the list was included with an invitation to her birthday party. Scanning the catalogue of goodies, it also included a Barbie DreamHouse at £250 and a Barbie campervan costing over £50.
My first emotion was shock, before the rage kicked in.
Some parents are demanding guests bring ever-more lavish gifts to children's birthday parties
A Barbie DreamHouse - costing £250 - was among the presents on a children's party gift list
There was a QR code on the cutesy cardboard invitation, which I had to scan to RSVP. So far, so normal for children’s parties these days. But when I clicked on ‘submit’ I was then automatically taken to another page called thingstogetme.com.
At first, I assumed it must be an advert. Or a joke.
Unfortunately, it was neither, but an act of breathtaking audacity that left me dumbfounded and seething. As a teacher myself, I also worried about the impact such an attitude to gift-giving could have on a class, creating jealousy, resentments and an obsession with consumerism.
Disappointingly, it seems there are a small group of parents who felt differently. Because ten months on from that first grabby invitation, I’ve since received three more with similar gift lists and now refuse even to engage with them.
Though we live in a lovely area of Kent, it’s not overly affluent or flashy. My children — I also have a son who’s five — go to the local state primary, where there’s a mixture of stay-at-home and working mums in professional careers.
Nobody is extravagant and the accepted etiquette when it comes to birthday parties has always been for guests to arrive with a token gift such as a book, hair bobbles or sweets costing under £10.
Not any more.
These wishlists work exactly as a wedding gift list does. You select the item you want (or feel obliged) to buy, order and pay for it online, and have it delivered either to your own house or straight to the birthday boy or girl’s.
Feeling backed into a corner when that first invitation arrived, I picked the cheapest thing on the list at £25 – a bottle of Marc Jacobs perfume, which seems an extraordinary gift for a seven-year-old – and had it delivered to my house so that at least I could wrap it and my daughter could give it to her friend in person.
If you think that’s bad (as I did), I was flabbergasted to spot a section where parents could send cash instead. It said: ‘If you want to contribute more or you’re not able to afford items on her list, you can send money instead.’ The brass neck!
It didn’t take long for the WhatsApp chat that I’m on with half a dozen other mums to start pinging with messages of shared horror. Screenshots of the wishlist were accompanied by comments such as ‘Has anyone else received this?’ and ‘What the hell?’
Despite our outrage, ultimately the seven of us fell reluctantly into line, nobody wanting to break ranks for fear of being judged by the child’s parents or even the birthday girl herself. More to the point, we didn’t want our children being judged, if they didn’t buy one of the stipulated presents.
This first invitation was from one of the more well-off families at school. They live in a large house, and the mother runs her own yoga studio while the father is a GP. Maybe their expectations were higher or they got a kick out of being the first to start the trend. Or perhaps they thought they were within their rights given they were putting on a pricey ‘spa-themed’ party.
Reluctantly, I showed my daughter that first list and suggested we buy the perfume, because ordinarily we’d choose something together for her friends. Agog, she asked: ‘Shouldn’t she be asking her mummy and daddy for all those big things?’ She was, thankfully, as shocked as I was.
The crassness of what she was looking at didn’t pass her by, even at her age.
At the party itself, my mum friends and I exchanged eye rolls and raised brows as the girls were indulged with manicures beside a table groaning with gifts. Afterwards, we swapped messages venting our fury and also our hope that this was very much a one-off. We didn’t even get a thank-you note.
Exactly a month later, however, my daughter came home with another party invitation, which linked to the same gift site when I RSVP’d.
Simmering with anger, again I felt I had no choice but to select a present — also fragrance, as it happens, because it was the cheapest item on the list again at around £30, a bargain compared to the Pandora bracelets and charms also being asked for.
This time, I didn’t share it with my daughter as I don’t want her to think issuing a list with a party invitation is acceptable. I hope we’re raising her not to ask for something similar when her birthday comes around, but there’s no accounting for peer pressure.
Even a £25 bottle of Marc Jacobs fragrance seems an extraordinary gift for a seven-year-old
One friend has argued that these lists are actually saving other parents the wasted expense of a gift that isn’t wanted or won’t be used – which would be fine if the ceiling was a £10 spend.
But nothing will persuade me that these wishlists smack of anything other than entitlement, especially when the cost of living is through the roof.
It’s simply not OK to make such assumptions about people’s finances, and encourages kids to focus more on the things they’re getting than who’s coming to their party or birthday tea and how much fun it will be to celebrate together.
Anyway, isn’t the point of a gift that you spend time thinking about what to get, and pick something heartfelt that you believe the recipient will like and consider meaningful? Numbly clicking through a list of demands doesn’t bring quite the same warm fuzzy feeling.
By the time wishlist number three arrived at the start of this year, I was completely over any fear of judgment and reverted to my old rule of a £10 budget per gift, telling my mum friends that if we didn’t take a stand, we’d never break the cycle.
Arriving at the party knowing I’d ignored the list brought immense satisfaction and opened the floodgates because my friends have followed suit. Again, we didn’t even get a thank-you note, but I couldn’t care less. I’ve marked out my territory.
Nor do I care what the mothers sending out these lists think of my failure to comply, or my increasingly open grumbling. Although I wouldn’t go as far as to confront another mum unless she felt the need to complain to my face about a gift we’d bought.
As a teacher, I’ve begun to hear more stories of birthday wishlists from indignant parents who agree they are a truly horrible idea.
But apparently, we’re in the minority. Gift-list site Wishbob reported a 373 per cent increase in the first quarter of 2024.
Meanwhile, My Wishlist says new registrations are up 42 per cent this year.
One thing’s for certain, if either of my children ever asks for such a list, they’ll get short shrift. I’ll be quick to remind them the greatest birthday gift is having the chance to celebrate with their friends around them.
As told to Sadie Nicholas