This evening was the annual, local community Christmas Carols in the Park thingy.
Every year we discuss going. Every year we don’t go. This year, Godzilla, who is in the choir, is performing. So we said we’d go this year.
After a day of over-typical Melbourne weather, where a 20 minute walk required me to take my jumper off, then run back to the house to grab it and an umberella, carry umberella in full sun only moments later, then require a full body wading suit three minutes after that, we wondered whether going was a good idea.
We hadn’t heard that it was cancelled and the weather continued to fluctuate betweeen “ooh, its going to be a lovely night” and “are you insane? We’ll be washed away”. We roasted the chicken for our picnic dinner anyway, located the black pants and white shirt for his choral outfit (despite him insisting it was the other way around, to which I replied if I’d got it wrong, we’d just turn him upside down and put the santa hat on his feet and he could sing like that. Personally, I didn’t think it was that funny and just wanted him to shut up. He, on the other hand, felt it was hysterical and repeated it for the rest of the day) packed the picnic, went via Coles to collect some more Christmas lights for the house (?????????????????), witnessed a near-torrential downpoor, contemplated going home, drove out of undercover carpark and into sunshine and attempted locating a parking spot.
Find car park, find choir teacher, find other parents, find a spot to sit. Chuckle at other parents who were more organised and had got there and set themselves up just before aforementioned torrential downpour. Sit on dry mat with waterproof backing.
Sit through the formal opening, half-arsed comedic activities of MC, our schools rendition of two Christmas Carols, the second of which the CD (for backing music) got stuck and, without missing a beat, the completed the song wihtout the backup. Godzilla, the best dressed in formal black dress pants and a white, collared, buttoned up shirt, still managed to look like he’d come off the street, as one of the girls in his class decided his tucked in shirt “looks gruesome” and pulled it out. But only half of it. Oooh, and he was in the front row. Just to make sure it was more obvious.
Sit through the making of chicken rolls for dinner and the demands for lollies (that we don’t have), sit through eating all the goat cheese on crackers and, finally, sit through an entire cup of lemon squash being spilt on the waterproof mat and under my bottom.
S’ok, wasn’t to last for long as Chippie then did a runner, through the garden and out towards the major road alongside the park.
Do runner after him, through garden and showing everyone my wet pants.
All the kids then decide to join him, with their “candles” for the event; plastic sticks with a bit on top that resembles a flame and lights up when you push a button on the bottom. Because we’d hate for children to experience a proper Christmas Carols event, where they can wave lit candles, complete with real fire, around, setting fire to the hair of the lady in front of them, and have hot wax drip onto their fingers and scream very loudly. It all adds to the atmosphere.
Anyhoo, inevitably, the candles became wands and a game of Harry Potter ensued, involving much yelling, throwing of things and flopping onto the very wet ground as a result of being stupified or avada kadavra’ed.
Grumpy went to retrieve Chippie who jabbed him in the testicles with his candle-wand and yelled “Stupid pie!” Am yet to determine if he was calling Grumpy a ‘stupid pie’ or just turning him into one.
Cold, wet, tired and hungry it was time to leave. Which involved the long, drawn out extraction process, whereby toddler runs one way, the ten year old another, the seven year old wanders around aimlessly, you and hubby try to pack everything up without getting more lemon squash anywhere, and intermittently run off after toddler who looks to be heading under a bus, but changes direction at the last moment, leaving your heart pounding and screaming like an idiot, and going back to pick everything up that you just dropped in attempt to save life of small child, who proceeds to bugger off again as soon as your hands are full.
Of course, the video you took of the singing didn’t work, either.
Now … I have one of these to give away:
A Bosisto Tea Tree Spray Picnic Pack (also gotta add the Tea Tree Spray is really quite handy, but more of that later. Would have used it tonight, but no need)
All you gotta do is share your “fun” (I use the term facetiously) Picnic Moment and why you deserve this more than me. Because we have one of those stupid picnic “suitcases” where you pack it all up neatly and then pick it up by the handle and everthing falls to what is now the bottom and is really very annoying and makes a mess when you take lids off your Tupperware that you’ve neatly stored everything in. I’d much prefer a pack like this.
So, comment below, keep it shortish, but tell your FUNNY story. I cannot emphasise FUNNY enough. It must involve serious spillage, pain, blood, food fights, chaos or something extremely unexpected that makes me laugh. The one that makes me laugh most gets it. If there are a few that induce light bladder leakage (or LBL) I will call in reinforcements.