We have baggage. Heavy, hormonal baggage. Ironically, whilst I'm on drugs to suppress mine, I've particularly noticed the proliferation of grunty, teenage hormones that are charming and chatty one minute, then snarly and monosyllabic the next. At least our three he-teens generally like to rotate the foulness between them. When they get a little tired of being grouchy they pass the baton of beastliness to another brother from the same mother and have a little lie down in a scratchy bed of angst. It's harder for the she-teen for she must carry the banner of flouncy, high pitched she hormones nobly aloft on her roller coaster mood ride though. Tres dramatique!!!
The one below (see fig. 1) doesn't usually carry much "baggage" although, like most students of today, she does need to carry a ridiculous number of bags. For Year One there is the swimming bag, the library bag, the homework folder and the big bag for anything else you might need. Remember when you took a "port" with a pencil case, a sandwich and an apple allowing us to grow up with healthy backs and undamaged spines except for the fact that we have to carry
their bags!
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| figure 1 |
Due to the excessive number of bags required to deliver a six year old party to the park, the Short One was told quite clearly that we would not be playing musical chairs and carting 15+ chairs or cushions to her party. (I never did know exactly how many children came to that event.)
It was the one game she wanted and she would even forego the tedious parcel passing if the chair game was permitted. So we compromised and played musical paper plates. They stood in a line and passed the plates along so they had one each and stood on their plates in a row. Lala's friend played the Gruffalo's Child on the portable Barbie CD player and they all flitted about being fairies and elves and butterflies and mosquitoes. (see fig.2a) We just took a plate away each time till it was over. Much more fun than a line of hard furniture. Each child that was out got to run up for a lolly and a pat of the dog with the father of the birthday girl and there was no prize for last man standing- just another lolly and pat of the dog. You could even recycle the plates and serve deconstructed rainbow cake on them (see fig. 2b) but I didn't - people were watching.
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| figure 2a |
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| figure 2b |
As it turns out I could have though because they were distracted by the beautiful Japanese paper bunting on the cake which is apparently highly flammable. Who knew? (see fig. 3) I cheered and blew out the bunting before throwing it on the table and patting it out. They all looked up and paused and cheered too. She will always remember the birthday where there was hot flung bunting (not to be confused with hot flung chicken from the boys' parties) and they danced on the mock crockery. Hopefully it will be a good memory and not something she will consider "baggage".
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| figure 3 |
Luckily the big boys were there to take photos....
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| Go figure |
