My son has been taking part in a school holiday program since Tuesday, giving us girls the opportunity for some girlie time.
Today culminated in a presentation by both the kids on and the organisers of the course. As usual, my family stood out from the crowd.
Aden, along with three other boys had built himself a set of stilts. Sadly, he wasn’t allowed to bring them home, but I’ve made his dad promise to make another set with him, because he exuded talent in staying aboard the wooden sticks and even proved himself to be a talented footballer on wooden legs.
The organisers then informed us that our children would guide us through the building. But Aden had already departed the scene, snaking his way through the visitors to return to a delicious blue dessert he’d already prepared earlier. While he served an onslaught of visitors, we wandered somewhat disoriented through the corridors, in search of toilets.
We arrived for dessert and coffee last, of course, then settled our extensive family at a shared table. The other rather quiet family, were no doubt, overjoyed.
After a few technical difficulties the show began with how the children had made homemade spinning tops from CD’s. Spinning top, it would seem, is a similar word in German to circle, so I completely misunderstood the presentation (and the excitement) as I spent the whole time waiting for something fantastical made out of circles. I kept whispering to my husband, as politely as I could, “I don’t get it?!?” It would seem, even though he’s actually a bona fide German, that he didn’t get the excitement bit either.
Nevermind, at least Akasha was present for the entertainment factor. Desperate never to miss out on a meal she reminded us throughout the presentation, that the blue delight she ate must be categorised as, “not dinner, but lunch!” (even though we’d just eaten lunch before entering the building). Evidently she said it loudly enough and often enough to irritate visitors from another table, who also ended up telling the noisy one to: “Shhhh!” in a commanding tone.
The presentation drew to a close with various pictures of the children’s activities during the week. My husband had again left his glasses at work (I swear I’m going to buy him one of those neck strings) and repeatedly asked if our son was in the picture. Luckily though, he spotted him in the one small film that was shot. That of a young boy waving a hammer around madly, just missing his own head.
The audience gasped and laughed accordingly.
We were later informed that he was attempting to hit an annoying fly.
That explains it then.
The organiser finished with a “…thank you for coming…” and a “… hope you enjoyed the show…” To which my husband whispered to me calmly, “Not really!”
“Not really?” yelled out four-year-old Akasha, “Not really? Is that a joke?”
I’m so glad I live in a country where English is well-spoken by almost everyone.