Monday, January 21, 2013

19th of January

 On Saturday we weren't able to arrange the low-key day that the children really needed.  Ted had a morning workshop organised at atyp, so we headed off there first thing.  It was down at Walsh Bay, just next to where Harriet used to do choir so I knew where it was.  Problem was that I took the wrong turn off as I came into the city and nearly didn't make it on time.  Whoops!  But we made it just as the introductions were concluding but that was still a little too sharp a transition for Ted, who needed me to sit nearby and engage in the play with him for a while before he felt comfortable leaving my side and being whatever the environment called for at that moment.
For a child who loves to act the course was, as expected, a hit.  Here he is skipping away with walking stick held aloft and with great enthusiasm as we walked back to the car.  When I asked him if he enjoyed it he told me emphatically that he "loved it a LOT".  So I guess that's a glowing endorsement.  

When we arrived back home we were all trying to do as little as possible, since we also had a party that afternoon and I was hoping to pop down to a friend's farewell too.  Harriet sat and read.  I guess I didn't really even need to write that sentence, did I? 

But do you know what was amazing for this weekend?  We didn't have the SMH.  Seriously, it must have been the first time in about a year that we weren't engaged with newsprint fingers.  James and I do enjoy a lovely synchronicity with our paper process - I always read the front section first, flip through Domain, then actually read GW, then News Review, then Spectrum. James dives headfirst into Spectrum, then GW  and then ambles off to the kitchen to make something yummy by the time he gets to that point.

Remember how Ted had received his special red/green glasses the morning before?  Well today we pulled them out and he worked on the exercises.  It involves him looking at red and green images of varying distances apart and forcing his eyes to line them up to produce a single image.  It all ties in so perfectly with all my neuro reading that I was quietly thrilled when talking to the optometrist about it.  Neuro nerd alert.

Then on to party preparations.  Of course when it's a cat and dog party, what do you dress as?  Ted, well Ted immediately turns to his butterfly wings and gold tulle skirt in order to be a butterfly fairy.  Because "everyone will be a cat or a dog and Priya actually likes fairies too, so if I'm a fairy she'll remember that she likes them, ok?". 

The watercolour pencils that we have are seriously the best for face paint.  Harriet was very pleased with herself for making up her own costume, including the ears on her alice band, affixed with only half a roll of sticky tape.  This pleasant demeanor is not a truly fair photo.  Harriet was in fine form and quite happy and chatty, however when I asked to take her photo she assembled her face into this sombre presentation.  I laughed and after I clicked she stomped her foot in an indignant fashion and exploded with the exasperation afforded a seven year old - "Cats DON'T smile, Mama, I'm going to have that expression for every photo today!".  Ahhh...the realist strikes again.

Just prior to leaving the house, Ted decided to abandon the butterfly wings.  The why of this decision seemed to be because "I want to be a dancer instead". And no more correspondence shall be entered into.

And there was one innocent "hold old is your other daughter?" comment, but when I look at this photo I can see why he may have been mistaken for a girl at this event.  He did look particularly pretty.

 When we arrived Ted employed all of his shy, retiring personality traits and insisted on everyone in the backyard stopping what they were doing immediately and watching him put on a show.  The cease and desist notice was adhered to by the small crowd, however the inability for the show to start at a reasonable time meant the crowd floundered and Ted learn an important lesson in how to retain an audience.  Timing is everything!
 There was a face painting station inside the lounge room, which Ted enthusiastically waited for.  I did need to stay with him for the wait since there were a few people in there he didn't know very well.  And when it was time for the transformation he chose a pink nose and black whiskers.  And, as it turns out, a pensive disposition.

This photo cracks me up for a couple of reasons.  One of them being that when we arrived Ted was so overawed at the presence of Chanelle that he could barely lift his eyes to look at her.  When he finally did, and there was the offer of a photo together, he jumped at the chance.   We crouched down and Chanelle gave him a smooch on the cheek and you know what he did?  He turned around a split second after this and ensured it landed on his lips!  Cheeky monkey!  He had a such a big smirk too, methinks a discussion on boundaries may be in order a little earlier than I thought.

However the chance to have a chat with Chanelle lead to discussion of Sydney Festival which lead to discussion of Hot Dub Time Machine which lead to the formation of a posse and later that night I was trotting on down to Zoe's house again but this time at 10pm ready to dance the night away.

And try as we might, we worked it hard to get twenty people away from entering the Spiegeltent.  We waited.  And we counted people leaving.  And we waited.  And the rain held off.  And we chatted to very drunk people around us.  And we waited.  And I spotted someone who could easily have been old enough to be there and be my child. And after a random Bambi spilled a drink down Chanelle's dress in line and we had time enough to drink a little pink sparkly stuff, we decided to heed the call of those young hipster types who were telling us we'd never get in. We trotted off down Oxford Street where our little group of five boogied on down to a setlist very similar to the one we had been listening to outside the Spiegeltent.  And in a moment of beautiful serendipity, I managed to completely innocently (honestly!) and cluelessly knock two drinks out of Bambi's hands.  Yes, you read correctly, she and her posse of admirers followed us to the club.  Ergh.

I did love the chance to walk through the door at 3.30am. 

No comments: