Are we there yet?

By Jane Goodhew

“Are we there yet, are we there yet?” they repeated the words over and over until I thought if I heard them one more time, I would open the car door and shove the pair of them out!  What was I thinking of, not about shoving them out the door but in taking them to a pantomime.  A pantomime used to be exactly that a mime meaning actions speak louder than words but how they have changed and now they are loud, brash and not my idea of comedy or fun in any shape or form.  I tried to control my temper, to refrain from taking the next left and going back home after all it was Christmas.  The season to be loving and giving and suffering, after all isn’t childbirth suffering and Mary had given birth to Jesus, which was why we celebrate, isn’t it?  Although I think the meaning has been lost in translation over the last century and now it appears to be a time for greed and overindulgence and pantomime.  I could almost hear myself say “BAH Humbug” as I was beginning to sound like Scrooge.

“Which one are we seeing,” they ask in unison, and I have to think hard for which one we are seeing.  “Cinderella” I say and then the song Cinderella rock a fella keeps on repeating itself in my head and how I long for the Sound of Silence.  I keep driving telling myself to still be calm, and at peace, it will soon be over, and they will be back at school and normality will prevail.  For they are not even my children but my sisters, away at the moment taking a restful holiday in the sun with her workaholic husband who could only take this period off from his busy schedule.  How convenient!

I remind myself to be more charitable and less hostile towards them after all they are delightful, polite, well mannered, no problem at all.  Who was I kidding they were little monsters, they awoke early,  and even when sent to bed they continued chattering away until late and if I went upstairs to ask them to be quiet they just looked at me as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths and as soon as my back was turned begin again.

“Aunty, Aunty” they scream in delight, as they see the sign for the theatre.  We are almost there but, first we stop off to buy some sweets at the corner shop; as they are always extortionate in the foyer.  I am Scrooge!  They stock up on all that would be banned the rest of the year, and they look so angelic when they smile sweetly and say, “Thank you Aunty, we do love you and enjoy staying with you.”  How they manage to say it with such a straight face I don’t know perhaps they are psychopaths in the making.

Back in the car, they resume their game of Eye Spy and that was when I spied another sign, the billboard for Cinderella and a poster straight across it with the words CANCELLED DUE TO SICKNESS.                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                        

My prayers had been answered as I turned the car around and headed back home with two very subdued and forlorn children who would now have to finish decorating the tree instead and go to bed early whilst they waited for Santa to call.  

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew