Today in a final act of complete insanity. We went to the city.
Yep, totally bonkers. Told you.
We caught the bus. That was fun. We went to Mike's work. Did some Christmas craft and had a visit from Santa. Very generous presents were given.
Then we waved goodbye to Mike and went to David Jones.
It was utter madness. I reckon there were 150 people waiting to get into Santa's magic cave. The vast majority of these people were under 10. I didn't get a photo but I wish I had. The queue was just to get into the cave, goodness knows how much longer you waited once you got in.
Sadly we missed out on visiting David the talking tree, who always is a hit with the kids. Mainly because his name is David but for some reason he always has a girls voice.
We left the 6th floor of DJs and headed down to the windows which were beautiful. Once again it was very busy and it was very easy to lose sight of the kids as they squirmed their way to the front to see.
With our quest to see Santa unfulfilled, we went for second best and headed to Myer. Usually we only go there to ride the train and sniff at their Santa set up. Why? I have no idea.
The queue at Myer was this long. About 1/3 of the size of DJs. Presumably because I'm not the only one who feels Myer is slightly inferior to David Jones when it comes to Santa Claus. I must ask one of them why, because now, having done both, I can safely say they both involve unreasonable amounts of waiting time, for a similar experience, including complete rip off prices.
The kids had time, while we waited, to go on the free train. Sarah was stoked because she is now 'officially' too big to ride. Josh was mortified because he is still just small enough and had to accompany his baby sister. He refused to meet my eye as the train circled the track twice, for a grand journey of approximately 30 seconds.
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| Josh refusing to look at me. |
They rejoined me in the queue, which approached Santa, and looked like we were entering a giant mouth, Luna Park style.
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| Santa preparing to consume more children. |
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| It's OK kids, he only eats the naughty ones! (thanks J for this excellent one liner) |
I whiled away the 45 minutes by texting, talking to the people in front and behind, and telling Josh 800 times that he couldn't have any more Trash Packs.
Finally we were done. And I can't show you the photo because the USB version was $45 and that is just ridiculous. The clever Gen Y photographers superimposed a tray of cookies into Issy's hands and made it look like Josh and Sarah were patting reindeer.
Aah, the wonders of modern technology.
Finally we went to the food court. It was 1:30 and we were all starving. I believe it has been two weeks since I last left the house having consumed breakfast. Our mornings have become wild frenzies of last minute dashes to the IGA for weetbix or bread. Breakfast for me, is a thing of the past. Even my morning cup of tea has sat, and sat and sat.
And today, for the first time ever, I didn't pack them one bite of food. Just a water bottle. I knew they'd get fruit and some cakes at the work function and I'd buy them lunch. And do you know, once they knew I didn't have anything, they didn't even ask. It was amazing. So peaceful.
Anyhoo, the kids and I estimated that 50% of the food court was eating Maccas. We did not join that particular bandwagon (not because I'm a good Mum, but because I need it up my sleeve for tomorrow's road trip). I made them eat sushi and fried rice. And a cheeky little serve of salt and pepper calamari which went down a treat with all 4 of us.
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| The food court. Is it this busy every day? We will never know. I am never going back. |
Goodness I really hope that doesn't backfire on us tomorrow in the car. Surely food poisoning would have manifested itself by 10pm?
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| The kids, amazed by all the McDonalds eaters. |
After our experience of mass consumption we headed for the bus to home. On the way we saw the Martin Place tree and Mike, coming back from his lunchtime run.
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| Cute no? |
Now we are home, we've packed the car, the kids are asleep and I have to be up in 6 hours. Shit.
