Thursday, August 5, 2010

children have strange powers...

We had house-guest’s this week and my house of 2 kids swelled to 6 kids.  Through the madness and mayhem, I was able to confirm one of my theories - that children are magic.  I thought it was just my kids, but it turns out that it’s all of the little buggers.  Just to make it clear, they’re not magic as in magical. Ryk Neethling is magical, deep fried Camembert with cranberries is magical and being able to sleep late is magical.  Nope, children’s magic is more a magic-mushrooms kind of magic.  As in oh crap, I’ve had enough of this trip and I want to get off.  
Take their toys for example.  Kid’s magic definitely rubs off on their toys.  I’ve just tidied up the cluttered kitchen table a.k.a general dumping ground for scrap that doesn’t belong to me.  All rescue helicopters, Formula 1 cars and bits of lego have been parked in their rightful bays when blow me down and bob my hair if they don’t reappear the moment I turn my back. Flaming shrimps!  It’s tidy-up déjà vu the whole dang day!  Ah, the table’s clean at last. Get milk out fridge and put it on table.  Whaaat?  I thought I just packed that car away?  Oh well, tidy-tidy, move-move, pack-pack.  Ah, the table’s clean at last. Go to loo. Come back from loo. Whaaat?  I thought I just… you get the idea. Mmm, Toy Story might be factual. Clearly, they walk among us.
Kid’s magic also extends to their ability to withstand extreme heat and extreme cold.  Me: for Pete’s sake, take your Ben Ten sweater off; it’s 32 degrees outside!  Offspring: No, I won’t! I’m not hot, I like it and I’m not sweatin’!  Me:  Get out of the pool, your lips are blue and you’re going to get sick. No! I’m not cold and I like my lips blue and I don’t care if I get sick.  (Ja right, you little ankle-biter, I’m strangely not in the mood to nurse your fever at 3am tomorrow morning - all night clubbing’s infinitely more restful.)  
They also have a very deceptive kind of magic where they are able to adopt alter egos whilst looking pretty much the same.  Traditional introductions like “I’m Hannah” go out the window.  Instead, they introduce themselves by their alias, which changes from moment to moment.  Hi, I’m hungry.  I’m thirsty. I’m cold.  I’m tired.  I’m bored. Er, I’m sick of this, pass me my whiskey.  
Their most impressive magic to date, involves illness.  One minute they’re playing a raucous game of pin-the-tail-on-your-brother-with-a-real-drawing-pin, and the next minute they’re puking all over the lounge. There’s no nausea lead up. No “I think I’ll just lie down and gather myself”.  This special illness magic means that they can resist symptoms till the very last moment, giving you no warning or time to reach for a bucket.   Pure genius.  And to think, adults actually try and avoid throwing up.  
Their last kind of magic, I figured out, is very scientific and relates to noise.  Turns out they can cook up noise from almost anything.  A bottle opener, a blade of grass and a bag of cotton wool are all equal instruments of noise.  What’s more, it seems the sum noise of 6 children is greater than the number of children themselves.  I never was good as science or I may already have known this. 
But enough about magic for now, I’m off to turn my iPod on full blast for a bit of peace and quiet.

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