Friday, August 31, 2012

I'm not the marrying kind

“J always picks The Complicated One. It’s not fair. She wants to marry him, but I asked him first!”

Of course L didn’t say ‘The Complicated One’, or even TCO – only I call him that. But her meaning was crystal clear – the little boy she’d decided to marry in the first week of kindy was now devoted to another girl.

Fast and furious friendships seem typical of these heady first weeks and months of your first year at school. It’s a bit like speed dating, but with the cheap white wine replaced by juice poppers.

L is right – she definitely had first dibs on him. I clearly remember TCO and L holding hands as they walked back to class from morning assembly in the second week of school. I was so relieved he’d made a friend, after his first few days had been truly horrendous.

(On days 1 and 2 we physically had to push him through the classroom door, crying, and pull it tight behind us to prevent his escape. We then walked quickly away to the fading sound of his screams. First day of school blues.)

Yet it was only a few days until he made friends with L and things began to settle down, and only another few weeks until he really clicked with J. They are now fast friends, each waiting until the other arrives in the morning so they can play handball together.

In 20 years, if they decide to marry, I wonder if J or L will still have to promise to ‘submit to him’, as is currently the rage in some ‘forward-thinking’ Anglican Church parishes. I hope not.

I certainly know the church would not approve of our boys current plans to marry another boy!
The Complicated One and The Big Fella both asked Sherrie the other day if they could marry a boy instead of a girl.

“Not at the moment, but it’s currently under investigation,” she replied.

TBF wants to marry his male cousin J. TCO thinks it might be best marry a boy as well but is leaving his options open (a wise move, given how keen those little girls J and L are to marry him).

Who knows how or why people will be getting hitched in 20 or 30 years? The smart money is probably on the boys, not the Anglicans.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Clothes and circuses

"Can we look at the clothes section after we look at the toys?"

Not words often uttered by 4-year-old boys. Unless they're The Big Fella continuing his quest to look fashionably cool this spring.

He certainly dressed to impress for our first family visit to the circus last weekend. His Angry Birds t-shirt and scruffy blue jeans blended nicely with the circus roadies.

It was an old school circus with lions, monkeys, ponies, clowns and trapeze artists.

Admittedly the lions looked rather tired, the monkeys riding the ponies looked alarmingly manic, and the clowns made rather tired risque jokes. But the trapeze artists were rather good, and the atmosphere was quite jolly.

At 4 and 6, the boys were just the right age to be delighted by all the silliness and the pantomime atmosphere. Particularly the physical humour of the clowns. The look on their faces was priceless.

I know it's probably quite politically incorrect to like a circus. And for those like me with allergies, there was dust. And animal hair. In an enclosed space.

But if take your best antihistamine and adjust your other medication before heading off, adults may have an acceptable time as well.

"What was your favourite part of the circus?" we asked the boys afterwards.

"The clowns," replied The Complicated One.

"The part where they bumped each other off the table, or the bit where they crashed the clown car?"

"No, the clowns we put the balls in. I love my pig." (He won a stuffed pig, which is rather cute.)

Seems they liked the sideshow alley at the entrance more than what happened under the big top.

So perhaps it's an old-fashioned carnival with sideshow alley they prefer, more than an old-fashioned circus.

Provided The Big Fella can dress to impress, he probably doesn't care where he goes - as long as he's looking goooood!