Ah, a much needed break, teamed with school holidays for kids and Grumpy Pants coinciding, and some much needed family time together, in a tranquil and out of the way place, far away from internet connections and the Wii.
The DSes were, however, packed.
Packing ensued, which involved Monkey Boy refusing to share a suitcase with Godzilla because “Urgh!” and “I just don’t want to, ok!” Both of which where extremely well thought out, comprehensive and coherent arguments. Relented. The other option was stab someone.
Deal with a Chippie Poo that had managed to work its way down the entire length of one of his legs and required both of us hopping in the shower, him fully clothed. Subsequently deal with toddler tantrum pertaining to being clothed in the shower, as this is not the done thing and the only way to deal with it is to scream. Loudly. In a confined space. It also required thrashing about so that Mummy was unable to remove soaking wet and poo covered clothing with any semblance of control.
Chippie cleaned, showered and dressed.
Bags – all three of them – packed. Godzilla repeatedly requested to retreive more than just two pair of socks, three pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the three night – four day stay. Two pair of tracksuit pants and another set of socks eventually stuffed in bags. Jackets are then tossed on top at last minute, post bags being jammed into boot of car.
Our plan to leave at 10am was looking good and we pulled out of the garage, car fully laden, bikes attached to the bike holder thingy on the back at exactly 11.13am.
Godzilla informs us he is “starving” three minutes into the trip. Grumpy solves this issue by informing him we’ll “stop for lunch soon” and close on two hours later we do. The upside of the repeatitiveness of the “I’m hungry” is that it prevented the inevitable game of “I Spy” that usually accompanies us on these journeys.
Rain, BIG rain, kicks in just before we hit our Lunch Stop, stock up on provisions for having leftover chicken sandwiches at a rotunda or park somewhere, when Godzilla notices a “kids eat free” sign on a windown.
Hmmm … eat in BIG rain in rotunda in a park that could be lots more minutes away, or eat in warm restaurant with wine that has BIG sign out front saying “kids eat free”.
In we go.
And out we go a little over an hour later.
Chippie proceeds to scream for a bit, produce face-pulling that indicates massive poo imminent, emits noxious smelling odour from bottomly region in an area in which we are unable to pull over and do anything about it, safely (would prefer noxious smelling bum to being run over by truck, thank you very much) and promptly falls asleep.
Continue on journey to tune of “Oh my god he stinks!” from nine year old and “I’m a crazy chicken” from seven yaer old.
Arrive at destination where we discover a repeat of this morning’s Chippie poo, only smaller. Which causes me great confusion and annoyance. Into postage stamp sized shower he goes, again partially clothed and, again, resistant to this scenario, ensuring I and the other residents of caravan park are fully informed of his disgust.
We all head off for a bike ride, where my Unridden For Ten Years bike is putting up a little bit of squeaky resistance and the tires haven’t been adequately pumped up, making it difficult to ride. I suspect Grumpy Pants did this with tires as payback for having to chauffeur Chippie around on his.
There was much of him saying “come on, what are you doing?” and me responding with “I can’t go faster, my tires are flat” and him hilariously responding with “it’s only flat on the bottom”.
I swear he said “you’re only fat in the bottom” but he vehemently denies this.
Back to the cabin where we empbark on preparing a scrumptious meal of spag bol and Godzilla sits on the only toilet for approximately 3 days, yelling “I’m DOING A POO!’ whenever someone says “hurry up” and entertains himself with “balls go up, balls go down, balls go up, balls go down”. Thus sending Monkey Boy into hysterics and exclaiming, also loudly, “He has control over his BALLS!!!!”
Who say’s my kids aren’t talented?
Or, you now, annoying?
After eating and showering and much nagging about wanting to go for a swim in the caravan park pool at sunset in 5 degree ‘heat’ and much tantrumming over being told “no” and “are you insane?” Chippie takes himself off to bed, which is not the porta-cott that took up half the boot and is now stuffed in a corner of the teensy cabin somewhere, but one of the bottom bunks. By “took himself to bed” I mean he clambered on without sustaining serious injury to himself, lay down, eyes open and “snoring” loudly, then sticking his head out, looking through the door and yelling “GO ‘WAY! SHUL UP!” at everyone who was sitting quietly and not going anywhere near him on the other side of the door.
Also discovered that there was an error in the booking and that we were, in fact, booked for an extra night that we didn’t actually book. A credit note for the same venue was offered should we wish to leave the day we said we were. Or we could just stay. Do we want to return? Or do we just endure it now?
Hmm. Are we having fun yet ….? Because this will determine my level insanity by the time we do leave …