Monday, March 9, 2009
Blimey. Sensory overload. Hauling three small people along for the Moomba Festival ride could only be precisely that. Have I just become seriously old or has it always been SO NOISY YOU HAVE TO SHOUT TO HEAR YOURSELF THINK WHICH BY THE WAY IS TRICKY WHEN ATTEMPTING TO DISCREETLY DETERMINE THE NEED FOR YET ANOTHER POORLY-TIMED SMALL PERSON WEE STOP?
We managed to catch the tail end of the parade (requirement for fast walking as tail end marched into distance), found a relatively spacious vantage point for water-ski watching (spacious because this was where boats dropped skiers off upon completion of feats of jaw dropping bravery/skill) and enjoyed the dizzying heights of the ferris wheel (the kilometre-long queue a mere forty minute wait but joyously without toilet stop requirement).
A momentary time out meander into one of Melbourne's lovely arcades unveiled a shopette displaying Incredibly Small Things. Child Number Two nominated seven new items for his list of Things To Buy When I Grow Up.
I could kill a cup of tea.