Boring Old, Normal Family Fun Day

So … after yesterday’s adventures, Grumpy Pants and I felt it would be loads of fun to re-commence our Family Days.

Our aim is to do one every Sunday; get out, away from the house, do something fun or different or just spend the day as a family. We haven’t had one for a while.

Obviously, part of the fun is that I have woken with a slightly snotty head and mucousy chest, and no voice to speak of. So to speak.

Walhalla, and the historical goldfields railway was the chosen option. So I create a lunch of peanut butter sandwiches and carrot sticks, and off we go.

It is a very long drive. I am very tired. I try to sleep. I keep getting spoken to each time I try. Godzilla puts his arm on the arm rest of Chippie’s seat. Chippie has a conniption. I would yell at them. But I can’t.

We eventually make it to the historical train station, where Chippie is so pantswettingly excited he nearly stops breathing from speaking in such high pitched tones, pointing out the one diesel engine to me, repeatedly.

Monkey Boy has achieved that age where being seen with your family is so not cool. Also, Family Days suck, and he doesn’t like anything we do. On principal.

Godzilla has forgotten his jacket. The very jacket we asked him 35 times to get, but each time he found some new and exciting activity to partake in. Dancing naked to Sexy and I know it whilst filming himself on his iPod; playing Trash Packs with no pants on, but with t-shirt and socks in place, that sort of thing.

The trip from one station to the next is relatively uneventful.

At the other end, Chippie and Monkey Boy go to watch the train uncouple and so some shunting. Chippie trips over his feet and stops himself on the bitumen platform with his nose and upper lip. There is blood, but not much. He screams at a lady who approaches as I’m cuddling him, and says “It’s ok sweetheart, mummies can fix everything.” She leapt back in terror as he snarled at her.

Grumpy Pants wandered over as I’m hugging and consoling Chippie.

“No,” says Chippie. “I don’ wan’ you!” and climbs into Grumpy’s arms.

“Fuck you,” I say, but I’m not sure who to.

No one can hear it anyway.

Grumpy, Godzilla and Chippie wander off to where they’re not supposed to be to look at trains, and I chat to Monkey Boy about stuff. And things.

Then I see some awesome looking tree stumps and condemned buildings, so I get my photographer on and ask Monkey Boy to jump in the photos. Not, you know, literally jump. Rather “climb up that bit. I don’t care if it looks dangerous, climb up there. Now do this …” and I pull a pose he is supposed to emulate, but says “no way!” instead.

Then we realise the train is probably wanting to go, and everyone else has gone, so we race back to the platform, to find Grumpy wandering towards us, yelling “hurry up!”

Monkey Boy races up onto the train, Grumpy and I following. We hear the conductor say “Is that everyone?” and Monkey Boy replying “Yup, quick, go!”, and she saying “What about Mum?” and him saying “Don’t worry about her.”

Cheeky little shit.

So we make them walk whilst we go in search of coffees and hot chocolates. This has the opposite of the desired effect, causing them to play nicely with each other, with a significant dose of added silliness.

Much “settle down” and “seriously, stop it now” is voiced. As best as I am able to voice it.

Chippie, clearly a little over me saying “I’m seriously getting stabby, stop it!” turns to me and says this:

Cheeky little shit.

(For those who didn’t get it, he said “What, whatcha gonna do? Stab me?”)

We make them walk some more, up stairs, down hills and back to the car, where we just make it as they’re locking the station up. Godzilla throws a plastic bottle into Chippie’s face, because “he is singing a song I don’t like and won’t stop.”

Welcome to my fucking world.

Then it’s the long drive home (we oft forget that however far we drive, we have to drive that far back), a dinner of pastizzi and salad, because we really need to go shopping again, and somehow we are out of pasta. Still, if you serve pastizzi with salad you can pretend it is a meal.

Just saying.

Monkey Boy kills some time whilst dinner is cooking, asking me about g-strings, which I cannot answer as I hurt too much, so I show him a pair of mine; delving into the very back corner of my knicker drawer where I’m fairly sure remain a pair from several lifetimes ago, then he puts them on and runs around the house in them. Chippie finds this hysterically funny and asks Monkey Boy to make his undies do the same.

Awesome. I’m tired, I’m snotty, I’m sore and I can’t speak and I get to watch two sets of bum cheeks run around the house.

Family Days are so much fun …

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