2pm, June 16. England versus Wales in the Euros; a rare
meeting of two rival countries with valuable points and the giant matter of
pride at stake.
Or… Gymboree – discovering
music, beat and rhythm for six-16-month-olds.
Option
two please!
Rather
than turn myself into half-man-half-sofa and settle in for all the pre-match
build up, the match itself and then the post-match post mortem, with delicious
food and drink ready to consume at all times, I opted to attend a class that was
akin to being in a stage musical in real life.
Instead
of hearing Gooooaaaaaal when Jamie Vardy equalised on 56 minutes I was on a
soft mat hearing a teacher’s dulcet tones warbling “I’M GETTING A BALL, A BALL,
A BAAAAALL”; “SAY HE-LL-OOO TO JIIIIIIM, SAY HELLO TO JIM”.
Jim
was the class clown. Literally. A clown doll, called Jim. The babies absolutely
loved Jim, but to be honest he/it sent a shiver down my spine. I did not trust
Jim, or what the painted smile freak stood for.
Ninety
per cent of all words uttered by the Gymboree teacher were sung to/at us, which
in itself made me laugh because that is not a normal way to carry on. But what
really kept the childish smirk on my face was the fact that the songstress had
a great voice, she wasn’t one of those tries-hard-but-is-garbage singers.
However I did get the impression that our leader lives her life believing that
one day a parent will be a record producer and will offer to “take her to the
top, kiddo”. I suppose it’s always good to believe, even if it’s a bit niche.
The
unavoidable truth was that although she was kitted out in a fetching England
vest, the A-bomb was not interested in a football match on television, whereas
she loved hearing jingle bells, playing with beach balls and crawling (nearly
crawling) up wooden planks. And that’s how decisions are made.
We
didn’t watch ANY of the football but we had a great time.
The
rest of the day was spent feeding tuna, natural yoghurt and avocado to M’lady,
and walking home while attempting to finalise the admin of a Stag-do that I
have organised for this weekend.
On
that note, from Friday-Sunday I will be at a yet-to-be-publicly-revealed
location for a Stag. I aim to update with further news of my daughter but it would
be wrong of me to promise anything.
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