Walking in a winter wonderland

The mother in law wanted to take the boy ice skating. That was fine (although I could see him leaving her behind within minutes). But, I knew how it would go. The husband would have to drive him over to her place on Saturday and pick him up again on Sunday; a potential of eight hours driving over the weekend and us getting to spend barely any time with him.

Instead I got my thinking cap on and came up with the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland that I’d heard mutterings of from the BMBers. We could all go skating (or watching, in the case of some of us) and the husband wouldn’t end up spending eight hours in the car. Perfect solution.

And then the mother in law remembered she was actually busy on Saturday, so we went on our own.

We didn’t tell the boy where we were going; it was a surprise. When we walked out to the tube and told him he was dead excited. When we got there he lit up with excitement.

Until I had to break the news to him that the ice skating was sold out for the day. My fail. His bottom lip wobbled, the tears started to fall and I promised him we could go skating another day. No. But what if we could go skating another day, on a bigger ice rink and for longer than the hour he’d be allowed here? I could see that it would possibly be acceptable. Then I saw the helter skelter. You know there’s all sorts of rides you can go on here. Like a big slide that goes round and round and round. That perked him up and we were on the move again.

Of course the boy couldn’t possibly go on the helter skelter until the pregnant woman had been delivered to the nearest toilet (yes, I am getting very sick of this one) and the father had spent extortionate amounts on tokens for the rides.  That taken care of we queued up and the boy decided he wasn’t quite happy enough to go on his own and daddy had to go with him.  When they eventually came down that slide it was slow moving.  I think someone’s arse may have been a little large for the small chute.  The boy was happy though; when I told him that he would’ve gone faster if he’d gone on his own he decided that would’ve been too scary.

Next up the boy decided he wanted to go into the fun house.  I grabbed a cup of tea whilst they explored the top level and was back in time to see them make their way onto the bottom level.  The boy was a little taken aback by the blasts of air coming up from the floor, but by the time he’d reached the second one he thought they were hilarious.  I nursed my tea as they went into the labyrinth and expected them out in a reasonable amount of time.  But then I noticed people that had gone in after them coming out, but not them.  The amount of time they spent in there was ridiculous, but more down to the boy’s desire to keep themselves ‘lost’ than the husband’s inability to navigate his way out.

Then the boy decided that he wanted to walk through the belly of a giant dinosaur.  I’d skipped the fun house on the basis that with my pregnant balance and coordination not being quite what it should, it might not be the safest idea, but I’d hoped to manage a walk through.  No such luck – this one as well warned pregnant women away.  The boy came out the other side quite excited that the dinosaur had ‘pooed him out!’ and that he’d seen its heart beating. 

 We stopped briefly at Santa Land but the husband, being the grumpy old man that he is, didn’t want to go in because the queues were too long and there was no point taking the boy to see Santa because he was convinced he didn’t believe in him.  I asked the boy if he needed to see Santa this year and thought that he did.  Then I pointed out that if he didn’t see Santa daddy would have to let us get a Christmas tree.  It was a deal and both of them agreed.  I’d just like to point out to the husband that I won.  It’s an important point to make.

By this point, most of the rides that we walked past were less kid-oriented but it didn’t stop us teasing the boy that we were going to send him on all manner of scary rides.  Good thing he knew we were only kidding!  Instead we settled for a wander round the German market and sharing a hog roast baguette.  By sharing I mean the husband and I shared one half and the boy, although less than half the size of one of us, demolished the other. 

The boy insisted on being allowed to go on the trampoline and hoisted up with bungee cords, a  move clearly none of his parents thought through particularly well as going straight after that hog roast left him feeling a little sick.  But never fear!  Instead of getting off like any normal kid would do, the boy decided it would be a better idea just not to jump so high.  At least he got his money’s worth.

We bought pick’n'mix and ate waffles covered in chocolate and churros.  The boy marvelled at a talking moose and had his picture taken on a Christmas throne.  Then we hobbled (or at least I with my pregnancy woes and the husband with his dodgy knees did) back to the tube and made our way home exhausted but happy.