No Matter How I try
When Toolibelle was three, I decided to expose her to Culture.
At the Theatre Royal was a touring production of ‘the wrong trousers’.
What could be better I thought.
I phoned up and asked for tickets. The lady on the phone said ‘how old are the children?’
Three and six.
‘We do warn parents that the show is more suited to seven and up’
How wrong could The Wrong Trousers Be?
It wasn’t as it seemed. Boy was enthralled. Watched everything open mouthed. We managed to stop him shouting stage instructions as he is prone to do at Panto .... and church.... and school shows. In fact anywhere he believes he can improve flow.
Tooli sat on my or Himself’s lap. Gazing up at the larger than life Wallace, Gromit and the Penguin. She watched as they ran back and forth and commandeered the trousers. Cheered when she needed to cheer; boo’d when she needed to.
And then we went home; associated merchandise in hand.
We stuck the ‘wanted’ poster up on her bedroom door - looking out into the hall as per her request.
But after she went to bed - there came a howl. We went up, she was beside herself. Sobbing and sobbing. Once we calmed her down she told us through the big sighs... ‘the Bad chicken. The bad chicken’
Is watching me ....
We were so confused. The poster wasn’t in the bedroom - it was in the hallway - but it was because it was a profile shot she figured his eye on the other side was watching her through the wood of the door.
Wow. The imagination of children
But at least we were reassured that our three year old had a brilliant grasp of spatial awareness. We had a genius. One who was scared of Bad Chickens, but a genius none the less