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parental parody

I start this post by stating officially – hand in the air, all of that – that I am quite AR (anal retentive) about symmetry. I’ve previously posted about my need to take over decorating the Christmas Tree, lest I am visually tortured by two green ornaments next to each other, or more than one bauble of the same size sitting on the branch, or uneven spacing between ornaments (seriously, I’m a little bit hyperventilatish just at the thought of it all).

So, it will come as no surprise to those of you who have been ‘playing along at home’, to hear that I couldn’t stop myself from taking over the sandcastle construction over the Easter weekend.

For once, we could actually see a decent ratio of white powdery sand to stinky seaweed. So, in lieu of swimming, sandcastles it was. Mstr2 was deliriously happy and relieved by this, as he has a serious aversion to everything water.

#1 Hubby is well aware of my need for symmetry after so many years of wedded bliss. So it was with a massive degree of optimism that he tried to champion the creation of the world’s largest sandcastle. Complete with multi-storey layout, games room, office, Carlton Football Club memorabilia room (really…I was totally disgusted), and adults retreat (AKA alcohol room with swanky leather massaging recline chairs). The kids’ wing was right at the rear of the property, well away from the half of the house/castle dedicated to the parents’ retreat.

Or, at least, this is how it was in my head, while they started work on the actual sandcastle.

Construction, as is usually the case, was delayed. There was a bit of union action (the twins fought over who was positioned next to Daddy, and as far away from Miss5 as possible). Then there were equipment delays (all three decided they simply must use the purple spade, and no other spade would do). Followed by a lack of supplies, as nobody was prepared to go through the seaweed to get to the water.

The Site Manager (#1 Hubby) tried to work the crew in a totally ineffectual manner. As they do. The workforce ignored him, and openly bagged and harassed him. I, the Architect / Owner / Ruler of the Sandcastle Universe, simply watched on. Trying very hard not to intervene.

But after a massive 15 minutes, everything was falling apart. Literally.

Sandcastle Fail1

 Their valliant (but, ultimately crappy and symmetrically challenged)effort was pretty much like this.

So I stepped in. But only with the intent of helping the kids be all that they can be and reach their full potential – by way of a killer symmetrical sandcastle.

After a few seconds minutes of my directing them in where to place their buckets of sand (and then quickly replacing their buckets with my perfectly tightly packed and even buckets of sand), they gave up on me.

Only, I didn’t realise this.

I worked feverishly, creating the ground floor. Everything was even and perfect.

At some point, #1 Hubby has taken the kids to the park across the road to entertain them while I am busy creating my masterpiece helping with their sandcastle. Only, I didn’t realise this.

I proceeded with the second floor – the parents’ retreat including wine room, separate his and hers bathrooms, media rooms, and walk-in-robes. Just imagine it, if you will.

Finally, with a triumphant flourish around the edges to ensure they are even and symmetrical, my their sandcastle is complete. After a few moments of admiration, I realise I’m not receiving any praise for my efforts.

Sandcastle Mansion1

Mine was totally similar to this. Only better.

Upon looking around, I find that the entire family has deserted me.

They are gone.

Elvis has left the building. Or, my entire family has left the beach and the carpark.

Turns out, what I thought was my 20-odd minutes of “helping” with their sandcastle, was actually well over an hour. Enough time for them to play, then fight, followed by a spin on the playground across the road, then run into the water and whine because the result was them being wet and cold, and finally, head home to watch TV.

I was oblivious to all of this, despite #1 Hubby’s squealy stressed girly man voice as he tried to control the troops.

All in all, I think it was quite a successful family outing….


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