I blame the family.
They insisted on watching Kung Fu Panda on DVD the other night.
I like Kung Fu Panda, except for one thing; it makes me crave dumplings.
Then, they talked me into buying Kung Fu Panda 2.
That, of course, means a double dose of pandas doing Kung Fu and, man, the craving for dumplings was overwhelming. So, it was Yum Cha with the family this morning.
I wanted to go early. I had to go Chinese early, which is about 10. I’d happily eat dumplings at 8.00a.m. but the Chinese don’t do that. The only problem with them, in my opinion. And there’s only so long you can wait for dumplings, just quietly.
Grumpy Pants had invited a friend over for 10.30 however, so we had to wait longer. I killed time by unpacking boxes and being all organised. A.k.a “controlling”. Really, you have to have something to control when you can’t control the thing you want. Sheesh.
Then Monkey Boy called a friend and invited him along. He has come with us before. He wouldn’t eat my lasagne but happily chowed down on chicken feet. Weirdo.
Off we go, to a place we liked last time we went, only to be told that, as we have no booking, we have no table.
We wander the streets, find another place that looks reasonable and are given a table. Near the fish tanks. One contains tropical fish and is very pretty. The other contains lunch. And stuff off the dinner menu, I’m guessing.
We work our way through a variety of dim sum, desserts and disgusting things like chicken feet (not me). Chippie eats nothing, but does make himself a set of nun-chucks using two chopsticks and a drinking straw, and smoosh some custart thing (blergh – not a fan of custard) into the table before knocking the soy sauce off the lazy Susan and onto the table cloth.
Perhaps if he ate he’d have slightly more coordination. On the plus side, I got his uneaten prawn dumplings, so it wasn’t all bad, really.
Post face-stuffing, we set off for some local city parts to run off the copious amounts of delicious food we had just consumed (and Chippie to run off the lemonade sugar, coursing through his system), and listen to the whinings of a child about being outdoors, walking and in the sunlight.
I must have a word to my children about finding friends who have the capacity to keep up with our average family day, who eat, and are able to withstand this crazy concept of “outdoors”.
“I don’t like parks,” he told me. “They give me allergies.”
“That’s ok,” I replied. “You’re giving me annoyingies.”
Note to my children: Please also find friends who understand humour and sarcasm.
“There’s not such word!” I am told.
“There is now,” I say. “I had to make it up, because it’s true.”
And so commences our walking excursion back to the car, where friend attempts to convince Monkey Boy that paper is not made of wood, but out of the stalks of sugar cane, and would not be swayed in his argument that, whilst this may be the case, paper is also made of trees.
Grumpy proves this to him with a rather sensible argument along the lines of “What are trees made of? Wood, right. And would floats, right? And so do ducks, right? Therefore, you are a witch.”
Some kids make it too easy for us. I call this payback for not eating what I cook. We have to get some benefit out of other people’s children.
At this point, we reach a park with a largish water feature, where Chippie strips off his shoes, socks and tracksuit pants and has the time of his life, running around in his knickers and t-shirt, laughing maniaclly, and drawing the attention and smiles of eveyrone else in the park.
Then he gets cold. Which, you know, was to be expected, really. Grumpy goes and collects the car, we pile in