Another Saturday

This morning we had a birthday party for a three year old to attend. That involved lots of prosecco (for us, not the kids) and after a couple of hours and a few games of pass the parcel, we returned home, where I promptly passed out on the bed. I don’t blame the alcohol – it must have been the emotional exhaustion of Gargantuan Cataclysm* screaming at me all the way home. I woke up about half an hour later, and immediately had a panic attack that the day was completely wasted – there I was, in bed at 1pm, having done nothing. Only after some careful thought did I realise I’d already woken up, gone to a children’s birthday party, drank some prosecco, lost at pass the parcel, and so on, and then the anxiety began to dissipate.

This afternoon we went shopping. As La Serpiente’s birthday is approaching, that meant purchasing lots of purple party supplies: balloons, streamers, plates, party bags, tins of emulsion paint (there ain’t no party like a housepainting party), kevlar vests, live piranhas, a mechanical mouse organ, crankshafts for a 1997 Yamaha YZF750, electron microscopes, a proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem, a set of all sets that aren’t members of themselves – the usual stuff every three year old demands, all in the same hue of mauve-ish indigo. I wanted to buy an octopus shaped balloon, but my wife was not ready for that. Next year…

We were at the Plaza Singapura mall, which had its main atrium filled with a display of New Zealand food. Gone are the days when that would mean a pallet of Anchor butter and some lamb chops. Now there’s wine, cheese, potato crisps … and a pallet of Anchor butter and some lamb chops. We baulked at paying $60 for a bottle of wine and instead went down to Marks and Spencers instead.

That task complete, we went looking for purple clothes for our eldest. There was a clothes shop for small children, with a television playing Despicable Me (or possibly the sequel). This entranced La Serpiente, so much so that she leaked all over the floor, keeping up the fine tradition of evacuating her bladder while in a shop (see also while browsing magazines, while I’m buying Mother’s Day cards, etc etc). This time she wasn’t attached to me, and as it was a shop for children the staff were handy with stuff for us to clear up after our little micturating treasure, and it may also be one of the few times that Steve Carrell has made any of my immediate family wet themselves.

After that, well, what could we do but go into the basement where we bought a bottle of (Australian) wine and then some chocolate ice-cream for La Serpiente to smear across her face, because she’d been a good girl. Apparently. (Well, she told me she had, and why would she lie?) We trundled back home, the children again close to their limit for the day, and I had a pleasant half hour trying to persuade La Serpiente to eat her pasta, while Gargantuan Cataclysm hoovered hers up.

Just as we were putting the kids to bed, a street party erupted beneath us. I think it was the Keong Saik Carnival tonight or something, which seemed to be some people who can’t rap, rapping, while some people who couldn’t get jobs as musicians accompanied them. I’m old enough and cantankerous now to contemplate going down and telling several hundred people to shut up, but as La Serpiente fell asleep anyway after the requisite two Bedtime Bears (this is the advantage of running her ragged all day) I had less to complain about, so instead I went out for a run, then came back and undid the benefits of this athleticism by drinking wine and eating chocolate.

What could I possibly do to improve my weekend?

* I feel Destroyer needs a longer and more impressive nickname, in line with La Serpiente Aquatica Negra’s.

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