The boys and I have spent this week going to the theatre, and its been brilliant fun. J and M have loved it. Our first two visits saw impeccable behaviour. Cue smugness. Cue misbehaviour. On our arrival today to see a fabulous dance and music show, I had to sign a form to say I was happy for the resident photographer to photograph the boys. As we settled into our spot in the audience I, in hindsight a little optimistically, wiped their noses and picked the dried weetabix off their clothes to make them more photogenic. (They are both beautiful of course, with or without snot and weetabix). They then proceeded to act like philistines for the whole of the show, and the photographers camera stayed resolutely away from our little corner of mayhem.
First, after some swirly dancing, they gave out mirrors to the children.
What other people's kids did: looked in awe and wonder into mirrors, smiling happily at parents.
What my kids did: used the mirror as a skateboard, M while trying to crawl, resulting in face planting, and J across the floor and into the wall before I could catch him, as I was rescuing M from his face plant.
The performers then used fans to artistically waft bits of foil paper everywhere.
What other people's kids did: held up arms, laughed and danced in glittery sparkly rain.
What my kids did: ate it.
They then gave out crinkly sparkly huge tunnels of fabric.
What other people's kids did: peeped through them, crawled through them, wore them as dresses.
What my kids did: J put his over his head so he looked like a giant sparkly slug, and then just sat there. Weird.
They then did some snazzy tap dancing.
What other people's kids did: laughed, danced, tapped along.
What my kids did: J whinged for a snack very loudly, M lifted the wallet of the bloke sat next to us with impressive stealth, and then chewed on it happily before I noticed and, red faced, handed it back. Nothing says "I'm sorry my baby stole your wallet" like vast quantities of slobber.
As you can tell from the above, M is now mobile, which caused me to spend most of my time there pondering whether the 'assistance dogs welcome' sign on the door would mean I could bring in a friendly sheepdog I had trained to herd my children.
It was, genuinely, brilliant fun. We can't wait for next year.