School holidays. School holidays…. I can say that and make it sound like I am swearing. I can make it sound like I am about to commit some crime so grievous that the world will talk about me until the next time Lindsey Lohan falls over a cactus.
The way I see it, school holidays are great if you are in school. I am pretty sure that every school teacher is happy to see the back end of those 30 odd kids, if only to be able to hear their own thoughts for two whole weeks. Kids like school holidays, it is the ideal time to really see what their parents get up to when they are away at school.
Unfortunately, Miss Eight has had the misguided idea that the minute I close the door behind her, my life resembles HER wildest dreams. Since the day she started school, I have heard nothing but scandal, mis-information and propaganda regarding my daytime activities. I once overheard her telling her grandmother (that would be my mother Outlaw):
“When I am at school, Mama-Lulu goes back to bed. Then she gets up, eats chocolate ice-cream and watches Hannah Montana on the TV. Sometimes she turns on the vacuum cleaner.”
..see what I mean! Mind you, on the grounds that I might incriminate myself, I shall remain silent.
This brings us to School Holiday activities. Somewhere, in Miss Eight’s SpongeBob SquarePants addled brain, she is of the opinion that it is my role to ‘entertain’ her during this two week period. Stuck on the door of the fridge is a list of places and activities that she believes come as part and parcel of the school holiday genre. To me, it reads more like a list of torture activities dating back to the 14th century.
Today, she somehow managed to talk me into taking her to the local Aquarium. I was not sold on the idea, and suggested to her that after spending the first 6 years of her life living in Sydney, with beach and ocean laid on, she might find it a little ‘rustic’.
Boy was I right. At one stage I found myself standing with a group looking into a large bucket of water filled with various old shells, half-dead starfish and other miscellaneous items found in rock pools (used condoms and plastic bags notwithstanding). Even Miss Eight found this a bit lame. And for this pleasure, I am 25 euro poorer.
It is only day two. Now if I could just remember where I put the vacuum cleaner.