Dread and fear
[Note to self, ref yesterday's effort: lighten up. This is a Light Hearted Blog. Stop ranting. And Over Capitalising].
I have to take the children to the School Christmas Fair in a few minutes. I would rather have my eyelids removed and sit through a repeat of Jean Michel Jarre's millennium concert. No, I didn't go, but it was a close thing. I had to throw a tantrum, and in the end The LOML took her Mum and Dad instead, and they all professed to enjoy it. Good God. (The LOML swears she actually likes Jean Michel Jarre, thus confirming my opinion that she Has No Taste In Music).
At the Christmas Fair I am going to have to squeeze into the overcrowded corridors between the classrooms, surrounded by screeching infants, trying to keep track of both of my own children and remember the names of their classmates' parents. I've found that most of their classmates' parents are called 'Allright?', and 'Mate', somewhat conveniently. Child One, who has now left the village school for the town school, will meet some of his ex-classmates and disappear, only reappearing for very brief moments and getting money out of me with the magic password "CanIhavetwoquidforsweetsthanksdadbye". There will be tears, fights and tantrums, and some of the kids will be upset as well (thankyouandgoodnight. I'm here all week). Hot dogs will be bought and half of Child Two's will be eaten by Dad or Child One, whoever is nearest. Or greediest. I know who my money's on. Santa will be queued up for - at least this year we won't get the comedy central event of Child Two (age maybe three) seeing Santa, pointing and saying "Hahahaha. It's Grandad, look". Repeatedly. And despite the fact that Santa had put on an amusing (and very un-Santa) falsetto voice to try and hide this very fact from her. Interesting that Child One, who is over two years older, had no such suspicion. We'll have to watch out for the little one. I feel like Mr Tweedy: "those chickens are organised".
Worst of all, the LOML will not be there to help, as she, incredibly, is running a stall selling her wares at the Christmas Fair of the prep school up the road, on the flimsy basis that she is making money for Christmas presents.
Sympathise with me. For those about to, and all that ...
I have to take the children to the School Christmas Fair in a few minutes. I would rather have my eyelids removed and sit through a repeat of Jean Michel Jarre's millennium concert. No, I didn't go, but it was a close thing. I had to throw a tantrum, and in the end The LOML took her Mum and Dad instead, and they all professed to enjoy it. Good God. (The LOML swears she actually likes Jean Michel Jarre, thus confirming my opinion that she Has No Taste In Music).
At the Christmas Fair I am going to have to squeeze into the overcrowded corridors between the classrooms, surrounded by screeching infants, trying to keep track of both of my own children and remember the names of their classmates' parents. I've found that most of their classmates' parents are called 'Allright?', and 'Mate', somewhat conveniently. Child One, who has now left the village school for the town school, will meet some of his ex-classmates and disappear, only reappearing for very brief moments and getting money out of me with the magic password "CanIhavetwoquidforsweetsthanksdadbye". There will be tears, fights and tantrums, and some of the kids will be upset as well (thankyouandgoodnight. I'm here all week). Hot dogs will be bought and half of Child Two's will be eaten by Dad or Child One, whoever is nearest. Or greediest. I know who my money's on. Santa will be queued up for - at least this year we won't get the comedy central event of Child Two (age maybe three) seeing Santa, pointing and saying "Hahahaha. It's Grandad, look". Repeatedly. And despite the fact that Santa had put on an amusing (and very un-Santa) falsetto voice to try and hide this very fact from her. Interesting that Child One, who is over two years older, had no such suspicion. We'll have to watch out for the little one. I feel like Mr Tweedy: "those chickens are organised".
Worst of all, the LOML will not be there to help, as she, incredibly, is running a stall selling her wares at the Christmas Fair of the prep school up the road, on the flimsy basis that she is making money for Christmas presents.
Sympathise with me. For those about to, and all that ...
posted by crisiswhatcrisis at
3:26 pm
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