Thursday afternoon I received an email from close friend Mr M. “Hey tomorrow night is 7pm. Wanna do wine and cheese?”
I am a mother who sends her children on the first day of holidays to After School Care in school uniform and wonders if it is a free dress day. “Why is Friday night called 7pm?”
His reply was “2012 Symphony Under the Stars.”
A few days ago, Aunty J and I agreed to take our children, Cousin A, Hayden and Ronan, to see the Brisbane Symphony Orchestra in Roma Street Gardens. The forecast was severe storms that never arrived. There were no stars, but the moon shone like the Cheshire Cat’s Smile.
Friday afternoon I rushed home from work to find Aunty J giving Ronan dressing instructions. Everyone else was ready to go.
“Ronan. Go and put on new shorts.”
Ronan stared at her. At least he was making eye contact.
Aunty J pointed to his room. “Ronan. Go and put on new shorts. Those ones are dirty.”
Ronan turned around and went into his room. He returned wearing two shirts, but no new shorts.
“Ronan! I said shorts, new shorts.”
Realising what the confusion was I said to her, “He thinks you are saying ‘shirts’. Use ‘pants’ instead.”
“Ronan go and change your pants.” And he did.
We made it to the train station on time to meet with Mr M and his 10 year old daughter, Kiddie K, and 7 year old son, Kiddie B. It was an epic journey into the city on the train with 3 adults, laden like camels, and 5 super active children. Ronan sat next to me and talked.
Ronan: “Where we were going mum?”
Me: “Roma Street”
Ronan: “No. We not going to my street! We go to Hayden Street! What station next mum?”
Me: “I’m not sure. And it’s Roh Mah Street. Not Ronan Street.”
Ronan: “What we do mum?”
Me: “To listen to music in the park Ronan.”
Ronan: “Where we going mum?”
Ronan’s circular questions began before and after the train stopped at all 8 stations. When the train pulled into Roma Street Station, Ronan jumped up and down saying loudly, “Yeah we here, we here at Hayden Street! I love it!”
We walked from the station to the botanical gardens and chose a spot away from the crowd. Mr M and I set up under a tree while Aunty J went in search of food.
“Go my pretties!” I threw my arms towards the tree. “Climb!”
The sound of children’s laughter draws other children to it like white on rice. Soon the strange fruit in our tree multiplied from five to twelve. I suggested naming it the Crèche Tree and charging climbing fees, but Mr M, a commercial solicitor, said it was a bad business investment on account of it being ‘illegal’.
Aunty J came back. “There’s no real food out there. Only expensive classy stuff…like salad and crackers and cheese.”
I pointed to Mr M’s portable table. On it stood three wine glasses, stuffed black olives, wasabi cheese, crackers, and a bottle of chardonnay.
“He went to a private school,” I said. “Luckily I brought Nerds and chips!”
After handing out my bag of junk food to the children, I settled down to listen to the orchestra.
Me: “Is this Lawrence of Arabia?”
Mr M: “I thought it was New World.”
Me: “It sounds like Lawrence of Arabia.”
Aunty J: “They should have a request line.”
Me: “I’d request Star Wars and Indiana Jones.”
Aunty J: “Titanic.”
Mr M: “I’m pretty sure this is New World.”
Soon the children’s hyperactive noise began to attract attention. We had to be responsible parents and Jedi Mind Trick our children into playing the Boring-est-Game-In-The-World.
Aunty J: “Hey kids. Want to play the Best-Game-In-The-World? It’s so exciting and I’m so excited just telling you about it!”
Me: “And whoever wins this game gets the Most-Awesomest-Prize-Ev-Ver! The prize is so awesome I can’t tell you now otherwise you’ll be too excited to play the game.”
We had their attention.
Aunty J: “The game is called Sticks.”
Mr M and I clapped and yahoo.
Aunty J: “What you do is lay down on the picnic rug. Then you need to be really…really…still. The person who lies the stillest for the longest wins the Most-Awesomest-Prize-Ev-Ver.”
The Jedi Mind Trick does work. Soon there were 4 children laid out on the picnic rug as though fast asleep, the adults quietly high-fived. Ronan would not lie down. He did not understand the game. He sat on a fold up chair, hugging his knees in the dark. The children played the game for almost 15 minutes until Kiddie K requested a Game Pause. She needed to go to the toilet. Kiddie B was the last to move. I decided he would be the unofficial winner of the game because I was bored of judging stick children. Upon hearing this, Hayden threw a tantrum, protesting the Game Pause was a ‘all bets are off’ period until it was Unpaused. Hoping to continue the game to win it, he laid back down, but Aunty J and I had already perched ourselves on the highest branches of The Climbing Tree.
Kiddie B looked at me from the branch below.
Kiddie B: “Can I sit next to you?”
I pulled him up beside me. Below Ronan had one leg slung over the lowest branch of the tree and complained he was stuck.
Kiddie B: “Ronan is autistic isn’t he?”
Me: “Yes B.”
Kiddie B: “I like him. Did you know I have Asperger’s?”
I smiled. I knew but he had only learnt the word recently.
Me: “Really? And what do you think about it?”
Kiddie B: “I don’t mind. I really like tonight.”
He smiled at me and I wanted to give him a really big hug but I was clinging onto the branch. Below, his dad was taking photographs of us in the tree on his mobile phone. On stage the musicians bowed and the crowd clapped. People started to leave the garden grounds.
I wrapped one arm around him and gave him a half hug, “That’s because you’re a winner B!”
ricensoup 