Like you declare, Oh yes! My little Moonbeam loves Sindy! and there right behind you is Moonbeam pinning Sindy down with a pickle fork and stabbing her through the right eye with a kebab skewer? Or when you are foolish enough to say smugly to the waiter, No problem! Moonbeam yesterday wolfed down her spinach surprise! Then one second later you sit there humiliated and considering silent self harming because Moonbeam is yelling to the entire restaurant that she hates spinach and yesterday you forced her to eat spinach. Then, as a finale, she uses the word crap in an apposite place and says from now on she will only ever ever eat pizza and no cheese.
Today is that moment for Grit and the Gritlets. Here is Grit, having escaped Pontins for ever, out sharpish at 9am this morning never to return, singing and dancing with joy, and landing with smug pleasure at the ecotech centre where, thanks to the wonderful capabilities of our group leader, we have a trip up the wind turbine and a workshop in how to generate electricity without destroying planet earth. On the way, Shark has been maintaining a constant monotone whine of 'she did it it is all her fault it is horrible having sisters' blah blah blah about everything; Tiger is simmering like a pressure cooker about to explode, while Squirrel is suffering from Squirrel Grump, which is to have a bad mood about anything living and dead. And then did I mention the only thing left to eat in the car are three broken cream crackers and a moulding orange? From this I can predict only one outcome. Carnage.
On seeing the wind turbine at our arrival with its 300-plus steps, Grit takes all of one second to visualise the scenario of three kids up a wobbly ladder having a fight. I refuse to go. I don't think even the fire brigade's super-extended version lift ladder could resolve swinging punches half way to the stratosphere. I declare Dig is a scientist so he has to go and be a supervising adult, the type we call a referee.
Well blow me down but 45 minutes later, after waiting down below and telling myself tales of doom and disaster at 80 metres skyward, out from the bottom of that turbine pops Dig, Shark, Squirrel and Tiger, scampering behind. 'It was OK!' whispers Dig, because if he speaks it out loud everything will go wrong and everyone will die. 'What?' I ask. 'You mean up the wind turbine there was no fighting and no one got hurt?' 'That's right!' exclaims Dig. 'And the most fuss we had was when Squirrel and Shark got a badge, and Tiger didn't want one!'
And that, folks, is one heck of a confounded expectation.
Wondering which way the wind is blowing today.
1 comment:
See, perfectly normal behaviour. That's what children do, make liars of us and drive us insane. No fields today then?
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