Do you remember the last time you smiled so much your face hurt? Maybe it was laughing that made your cheek muscles cry out? Could you have been watching a particularly funny TV show, or you were lucky enough to see a comic genius perform? Perhaps it was those singing cats on you-tube?
Last weekend it wasn’t a stand up comedian doing what they do best, but my ever-growing blond haired boy strutting his stuff on the dance floor.
We were all having a truly wonderful weekend. On the Saturday not only had the very wonderful god parents contributed to a voucher to spend at a beautiful winery down the Peninsula, but also they came with us to look after our boy while we enjoyed our meal AND drove us home! We are lucky people!
Sunday morning the big boy played golf while the little boy and I had a mothers group catch up. And the fun continued on Sunday afternoon, we went for a late lunch at a local pub with some friends and their lickle man. After our pub grub was gobbled, (not without the carpet being liberally sprinkled with morsels) us mummies toddled with our toddlers and Sunday arvo ‘sips’ upstairs to listen to some live music. The band was just starting up. Now my wee poppet hasn’t really been up close and personal with real life musicians doing their stuff before. When we went to the Mordialloc Food and Wine festival, we just hung around the playground like the parents of young children that we are. Here my boy was in spitting distance to drums, mics, guitars and people with the talent and will to play them.
The dance floor was empty, but not for long. Out into the middle went my friend’s bub, to claim his rightful place. The age difference between our bubs and us was about the same as the age difference between us and the rest of music lovers in there. And it wasn’t long before the grannies were making moves on our sons! My poppet wasn’t so adventurous as his little friend, and stayed within arms length of me. This didn’t stop a significantly inebriated gran trying to dance with him; his ducking and weaving to avoid her didn’t put her off. Out of the dance floor the other bub had no chance of avoiding another grannie, she scooped him up and twirled him around. I have to say he put up with this quite well, and eventually these over friendly ladies gave the boys a bit of space.
My poppet gathered the courage to join his mate out front and centre. Away they went letting the music carry them, tapping feet and nodding heads. A few laps of the dance floor, skillfully avoiding the other dancers who had succumbed to the beat. Even some pelvic thrusts! Our boys had style. There was something so wonderful about seeing these little lads dominating the adult space, bringing their joy and innocence, their fledgling dance moves. I love live music (who doesn’t?), and watching my little man love it too had a huge smile glued on my face.
It ended like most good things do with toddlers, it all gets too much. My poppet really really wanted to hold his wee friend's hand, but his mate was just not interested. He was chasing him around and grabbing at him. More and more of the crowd was getting their groove on, and another women who may have been drinking all afternoon was whooping and ‘aye aye aye-ing’ at the top of her voice. We swept up our charges, with a little pudgy wave goodbye to the band we rejoined the grown up men watching men in short shorts chase after bit of leather on the telly.
I hope your day involves something that makes you laugh until your sides ache, or smile until your cheeks hurt. Maybe we should seek out these moments more often.
Last weekend it wasn’t a stand up comedian doing what they do best, but my ever-growing blond haired boy strutting his stuff on the dance floor.
We were all having a truly wonderful weekend. On the Saturday not only had the very wonderful god parents contributed to a voucher to spend at a beautiful winery down the Peninsula, but also they came with us to look after our boy while we enjoyed our meal AND drove us home! We are lucky people!
Sunday morning the big boy played golf while the little boy and I had a mothers group catch up. And the fun continued on Sunday afternoon, we went for a late lunch at a local pub with some friends and their lickle man. After our pub grub was gobbled, (not without the carpet being liberally sprinkled with morsels) us mummies toddled with our toddlers and Sunday arvo ‘sips’ upstairs to listen to some live music. The band was just starting up. Now my wee poppet hasn’t really been up close and personal with real life musicians doing their stuff before. When we went to the Mordialloc Food and Wine festival, we just hung around the playground like the parents of young children that we are. Here my boy was in spitting distance to drums, mics, guitars and people with the talent and will to play them.
The dance floor was empty, but not for long. Out into the middle went my friend’s bub, to claim his rightful place. The age difference between our bubs and us was about the same as the age difference between us and the rest of music lovers in there. And it wasn’t long before the grannies were making moves on our sons! My poppet wasn’t so adventurous as his little friend, and stayed within arms length of me. This didn’t stop a significantly inebriated gran trying to dance with him; his ducking and weaving to avoid her didn’t put her off. Out of the dance floor the other bub had no chance of avoiding another grannie, she scooped him up and twirled him around. I have to say he put up with this quite well, and eventually these over friendly ladies gave the boys a bit of space.
My poppet gathered the courage to join his mate out front and centre. Away they went letting the music carry them, tapping feet and nodding heads. A few laps of the dance floor, skillfully avoiding the other dancers who had succumbed to the beat. Even some pelvic thrusts! Our boys had style. There was something so wonderful about seeing these little lads dominating the adult space, bringing their joy and innocence, their fledgling dance moves. I love live music (who doesn’t?), and watching my little man love it too had a huge smile glued on my face.
It ended like most good things do with toddlers, it all gets too much. My poppet really really wanted to hold his wee friend's hand, but his mate was just not interested. He was chasing him around and grabbing at him. More and more of the crowd was getting their groove on, and another women who may have been drinking all afternoon was whooping and ‘aye aye aye-ing’ at the top of her voice. We swept up our charges, with a little pudgy wave goodbye to the band we rejoined the grown up men watching men in short shorts chase after bit of leather on the telly.
I hope your day involves something that makes you laugh until your sides ache, or smile until your cheeks hurt. Maybe we should seek out these moments more often.
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