Be prepared

The childcare Welcome Picnic was on – the one that is really the End Of Year Christmas party that was rained out last year. It had rained for a full week, quite hard. Then a little bit that morning. Then, oh hours before the scheduled time, and after mutiple emails and telephones cancelling it, it was a beautiful, dry, mild night. Perfect for an end of year bbq.

I had a somewhat busy and productive day – a rare Person Free Day in my house, so I took advantage of it, as one does. Had the delight of bringing another child home from school, then in the still swealtering heat at 4.35pm, taking middlest child up the street to purchase gifts for a birthday party he is going to tomorrow morning. Immediatley after basketball. Thus, no time for the last minute birthday gift shop as appears to be our tradition.

This is the last minute we have.

Arrive home, and it’s immediatley time to go to the picnic. Have an extra kid to get harrangue to get his shoes on, take some snacks, but thankfully don’t need to be too prepared, because they’re providing everything, stuff Chippie into his pram and off we go.

We make it around the corner and to the end of the street before the rain hits. Meh, we can make it up the hill and we’ll just get a little bit wet. Cross the road – away from the tram stop – and *thump*, we’re not hit with so much heavy rain as a deluge. Kinda like a blanket had dropped on us. A large and wet one.

Find a tree to stand under, which only serves to filter the rain. Not the water gushing down the street over our feet, however. Race back to tram stop, Chippie screaming and freaking out over rain, despite him dancing in it only a week ago and screaming and freaking out becuase it stopped and I refused to make it start again, hail a tram that isn’t actually taking passengers, but think he took pity on the two adults who looked like drowned rats, with four kids, one in a pram, who looked even worse.

It had stopped by the time we got up the hill, dropped extra child off and headed back to childcare for dinner.

We were all give a coloured dot which corresponded to the room our kids were it, to stick on our clothes. The idea was that we find other parents with a similarly coloured dot and make friends.

I lost my dot within seconds of getting a plate of salad, because sticky dots don’t stick to sopping wet clothes. Also, it was green, so it possibly ended up on the salad. Chippie, moving from my lap to Grumpy’s and back again, and refusing to do kid stuff like play in the muddy puddle out the back, or smash cars into things, discovered his own green dot, and had some kind of conniption until it was removed. He then set about stuffing it down the front of my top, between my boobs, which had the effect of an eye-catching, primary colour in my cleavage and drawing many looks. Usually second looks.

Sadly, I made no new friends out of this tactic. Possibly because I was still dripping wet. And had a lurid green dot perched between my boobs.

Monkey boy, being the oldest by a good four or five years, went and got his face painted; full green with an extra eye on his forehead. No, not a cyclops, as he informed everyone, a “triclops, cos I’ve got three eyes, see?” and set about freaking out as many toddlers as he could, and informing the lady with the fruit platter that “triclopses can’t eat fruit, otherwise they disappear” which only made we mant to force feed him.

Except I think he’d eaten seven sausages in bread and force feeding him fruit may very well have ended up in me being covered in tween-vomit.

Godzilla, on the other hand, had smuggled his DS in and was happily sitting in a hidden corner.

Wish I’d thought of the same.

Because now Chippie smells like poo, his chidcare bag and nappy bag (yes, we have two, its an anal thing I have about being organised and prepared for any situation) are both at home …

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