Sunday, 6 September 2009

Fun at the RSPB day

Not fun. Not for mama. I am in a sulk, and not talking to anyone.

Why not talking, I cannot quite recall, but you can bet it was an important cause - no, more than important; the most vital earth quaking cause that has ever happened in my life - like, like, the newspaper delivery was late. Or Dig, chirruping, I'm off to India. Laters! Enough to send me into a grumpy not talking pit.

Which place I should send myself to more often because Shark, Tiger and Squirrel totally ignore me and amuse themselves all day long without any irritating adult interference. Indeed without any vocal intervention from mama, they have a whale of a time and probably think this day is the funnest most fantastic day they ever spent on this planet.

The RSPB fun day basically consists of two dozen exhibits and stalls laid out like a village fete. Mummy Grit silently provides each of her sparkle-eyed children with a shiny £2 coin each. For £2 at the RSPB fun day you can enter nirvana. If you are aged under 12.

For 10p you can play tombola and win a green pottery money box painted with yellow faced teddy bears. You delight in that win and hand that beautiful object to mama before scampering off. Behind your back and without a word mama hands it straight back to the tombola lady.

After the tombola you can hook a shiny sequined fish for 20p. Given that the hook on the fish is the size of your head and the hook on the fishing line is similar, this feat takes less than one second. It is rewarded with a booklet about poisoning red kites. You can stuff this in mama's handbag before running off to the next kiddie delight, whereupon mama will dolefully lift it out and return it to the hook-a-fish stall woman because we have eight of the bloody booklets at home already.

Oblivious, you can run off to enter the food chain competition which is FREE! So you can hear the happy jingle of £1.70 in your hand while you sort owls and mice. Thank goodness there is no reward. But the owner of the stall prises 80p from you for a flat plastic owl you can paste on the window.

The same one mama will silently peel off 24 hours later.

With all that shiny change glittering in your hands you can run off to the Can you spot the badger? stall, where for 30p you can fill in a quiz sheet with stick-on badgers, then select a miniature fluffy fox. This item you will throw at mama as you hurtle towards the bat stall where for 20p you can identify bats and be rewarded by a sticker. It will drop off the fluffy jumper you are wearing and fall lost into the long grass, thus relieving mama of the duty to silently dispose of it later.

And so the day continues. The gritlets run about in complete joy, totally unconscious of the pain and suffering of the normal world of Grit, who simply trails along behind, silently collecting treasures which are forgotten about in seconds, or quietly handing them back to the stall holders to sell again to the second gritlet who will be along in five minutes time.

The delight for the gritlets is all in the playing, and the paying.

And I realise the sum total of a mother is not in words of wisdom, or any words at all. It is simply to provide the money, up front, and then shut up.

4 comments:

The Green Stone Woman said...

Yes, that's our fate sometimes. It's the stupid part of the job, but our kids are creating memories that they can talk about when they are grown ups. Remember when? they'll say, and look at each other fondly and at you too.

mamacrow said...

'Enough to send me into a grumpy not talking pit.'

ah yes. you'll meet me there on occasion...

Deb said...

Oh, man. I can't TELL you how many times I've had this sort of day. Hats off to you for keeping your cool.

Maire said...

I feel your pain, I really do!