Oct 222012
 

Not at Wet N Wild, but the same age... and same swimsuit.

As I read this post from the wonderful Mrs Woog a memory came rushing back. A memory of an 8 year old me, after dark watching Pocahontas during the night-time movie in the wave pool at Wet N Wild.

As a child I was obsessed with Wet N Wild. It was my favourite theme park. Despite the fact that nobody else saw the appeal to endless pools that, inevitably, were full of child wee. Or chafing your thighs as your swimsuit rides up your bum and you fly, hair everywhere and bikini top slightly askew, into the air only to do a bum flop into a pool approximately 2cm deep. And, OK, maybe I can see their point. But as someone who wasn’t a big fan of hot weather, or rollercoasters, or anything that went too high, or too fast, or for too long, Wet N Wild was the place to be. Continue reading »

Aug 062012
 

Me as a bubba. Everyone say awwww... Oh, and, that's not chocolate...

Let’s set the scene: I’m 3 years old. I’m sitting in the car with my mother, I’m a tiny little thing with short blonde hair, dark eyes and a super cheeky smile.

I turned to my mother and I informed her my eye hurt. She asked why, I said it was because I’d been playing in the sandpit and got sand in it. She asked me when this was, concerned that I hadn’t yet advised there was sand in my eye. I informed her it was two weeks ago, at pre-school.  Continue reading »

May 162012
 

On Saturday I attended the birthday party of my two nieces. With their birthdays only a few days apart, they celebrate together and, understandably, that means their parties are fairly big. This year I was amazed, however, to discover that our hunter instincts, and survival of the fittest, are alive and well.

You see, there was a piñata, one of those lovely pink horse ones you buy from Coles or where ever and chock full of lollies. The kind where kids attack the thing until it explodes in a shower of (hopefully wrapped) candy. In this case, the instrument of torture was a carefully selected rolling pin.

The piñata itself survived not an incredibly long time, and my brother in law had the somewhat dangerous job of ensuring whichever kid (ranging anywhere between 2 and 10… although to my knowledge 5 was the youngest person to actually get hold of the rolling pin) was brandishing this weapon of mass destruction didn’t manage to also destroy other children in their path. Continue reading »