I need to be honest with you.
Before Naru existed, I threw Jordan a birthday party. A small, intimate one — just close family, at home. He was turning one. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal.
It was supposed to be sweet and simple.
It was sweet. It was definitely not simple.
The research project I didn't know I was signing up for
At the time, we were deep in the planning stages of Naru. And I thought — okay, what better way to truly understand what it takes to throw a birthday party than to actually throw one? I wanted to feel it firsthand. The cake, the decorations, the food, the photos. The whole thing.
So I planned Jordan's first birthday like a mini field test.
What I did not anticipate was that the field would fight back.
The cake situation
I ordered a Jellycat-inspired cake from a baker. Adorable, obviously. But coordinating the delivery timing, making sure I was home to collect it, keeping it safe and intact — that alone took up more mental space than I expected.
And then I remembered: Jordan is one year old. He can't eat a proper fondant cake.
So I made him a separate smash cake. By hand. From scratch.
He took one look at it and refused to touch it.
I stood there, flour probably still on my hands, watching my son reject my homemade cake in real time. Happy birthday, Jordan.
The balloon arch that wasn't
I ordered balloons from Shopee because I had visions of a beautiful balloon arch on the wall. Pinterest-worthy. Instagram-ready.
What I got was sore arms and a wall that looked like balloons had an argument with each other.
I was pumping them manually. By the time I had enough to start arranging, my arms were done. My balloon art skills were also — as it turns out — completely nonexistent. That was a fun discovery to make on the actual day.
The food, the cups, and the chaos
I simplified the food by ordering McDonald's, because only adults were eating and honestly, I had already spent all my energy on the cake and the balloons. MCD felt like a reasonable, sane decision.
Except I didn't have enough cups for the drinks.
I also had to figure out table arrangement. For a home party. That I had been planning for weeks.
And then came the most intense part of the day: photos.
You have a very small window. The food has to look good (read: still hot). The cake has to look good (read: still intact). Jordan has to look good (read: not crying). Everyone needs to be in position before any of these three things stop cooperating.
It is a sprint. A chaotic, sweaty, loving sprint.
But also — we did 抓周
For those unfamiliar, 抓周 (zhua zhou) is a Chinese tradition where the baby is placed in front of a spread of objects on their first birthday, and whatever they reach for is said to predict their future path. We also did Wisdom Door.
I set everything up myself. All of it.
And honestly? That part I didn't mind. It was meaningful. It was intentional. It was one of my favourite moments of the whole day, watching Jordan reach out and make his little choice.
Was it beautiful? Yes. Was it easy? Absolutely not.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted in a way that went beyond physical tired. It was the kind of exhausted that comes from holding a hundred small things in your head at once — the timeline, the food, the photos, the decorations, the guest experience — while simultaneously trying to be present for your child on his birthday.
But it was warm. It was sweet. And I would not trade that memory for anything.
I just now know, deeply and personally, how much work goes into making it happen.
Jordan turns two. I hand the keys to Naru.
Fast forward one year. Jordan is turning two. Naru is open. And I made one very easy decision:
This time, Naru's team is handling it.
The theme was Animals on the Bus — because at that point in his life, Jordan was deeply, seriously devoted to buses and Old MacDonald Had a Farm. We leaned all the way in.
We got to invite about 60 people — extended family, close friends, their children. It was a proper, full celebration. Jordan got to meet his parents' friends' kids. He had space to actually run around. And at one point, he walked up to each child and handed them their door gift himself, one by one, with this little proud expression on his face.
I may have teared up a little. Just a little.
I was still tired, because Jordan is two and mobile and you cannot take your eyes off him for a single second. But here's the thing — that was the only thing I had to manage. My son, and my guests.
The food? Handled. The decorations? Handled. The photographer? Handled. The setup, the coordination, the running-around-behind-the-scenes? Handled, handled, handled.
I got to actually be at his birthday party. That felt like a gift.
What Naru takes off your plate (literally and figuratively)
If you're in the thick of birthday party planning right now and your arms are sore from pumping balloons, I see you. I have been you.
Here's what we've built at Naru so that you don't have to do it alone:
A private space, all yours — you get the whole venue to yourselves for 3 hours. No strangers in the background, no sharing. Just your people.
Food and drinks sorted — no MCD runs, no last-minute cup counting, no cold food because you forgot to time it right.
In-house photographer options — so you actually appear in photos at your own child's party. Not just blurry ones you snapped while rushing between the cake and the door.
A dedicated party space — it's big, it's beautiful, and you can choose to decorate it however you like, or not at all. Either way, it looks great.
A team that actually knows what they're doing — within our first year, we've hosted over 200 parties. We've seen it all. We've got you.
Most importantly: you get to focus on your child. On your guests. On the moment.
Because the moment goes fast. Jordan's first birthday feels like yesterday, and somehow he's already running laps around a play café handing out door gifts like a little host.
They grow so quickly. The least we can do is make sure you're actually present for it.
Ru
Co-founder, Naru Play Café
Thinking about a birthday for your little one? Come talk to us — we'd love to make it a celebration you actually enjoy.