Thursday, December 22, 2011

The Wobbly Wombats and The Ghost

I don't know what you did last night. But I spent a part of the evening with my kids wearing only our underpants and animals masks and chasing each other upstairs.

My daughter had made a Rudolph plate-mask - complete with antlers - at school yesterday. I had gone upstairs to start a bath and, by the time I'd made it up there with some laundry that needed doing, she was hiding in my bed in her underwear with the mask on. Thinking that was pretty amusing I stripped down to my knickers, grabbed an alligator mask from her room and crept back into my room to terrify her. Which I did. Then we heard my son coming upstairs so we hid under the covers and surprised him. We were sure to growl sufficiently. My son has evidently not updated his software to a more current model because he squealed and then lay on the floor covering his eyes hoping it would all go away. Then he took his pants off.

By the time my wife got upstairs we were all running across the landing semi-naked, growling and grunting at each other. I really thought about getting my wife to film it. I'd be okay with that I think. It's a laugh after all. But then I figured some Killjoy would call Child Protective Services. Which is just silly. The only reason anyone should have been concerned about the whole thing is that my son was angrily growling at a reindeer and an alligator whilst wearing a fetching pink flamingo headband. I thought we still had an alien mask upstairs but couldn't find it, so he had to make do with that.

It's funny that we can do things like that and my daughter doesn't place any gender value on it at all. But because I put on a light-red (it's skirting the brink of pink) sweater yesterday she asked me, "Daddy, are you wearing that color sweater because you want to be a girl?" So I countered by asking if she was wearing a brown shirt because she wanted to be a poo. Which hurt me more than her because brown is clearly the best color ever. More worrying was that she seemed less emphatic about denying wanting to be a poo than I did about wanting to be a girl. I really wish for their sakes, that society didn't insist a color could have inherent gender assignation. It makes no sense at all.

But yesterday to get away from all that I just changed my sweater and then my daughter told me it looked like a, "dance color." So we had a dancing competition. We have one scheduled for later today as well. This morning though we've been attacked by the evil Wobble Wombats who play Wobbly Dance Music to knock people over. It makes super heroes fall down in particular. That's how you know they are real super heroes. Like this -:

But they defeated the Wobble Wombats. Only for a ghost to show up. Evil baddies are like buses in that regard.

 Truly terrifying stuff.

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