Dinosaur Day

Friday was a teacher training day, so the bears had an extra day off school.  'I know', says I, enthusiastically, 'Let's go and see the dinosaurs!'

I basked in the glory of being A Popular Mum for a couple of days. The bears were excited and I was very much looking forward to seeing them myself, it's been a while.

Friday morning dawned...the bears had a punch up because Custard had lost his cagoule and refused to wear his old coat. FHB swapped. Then swapped back. All hell broke loose. I separated the boys. Mouse got angry because I wouldn't let her wear my coat. She pulled the pig face. I shouted. By eight thirty I felt ashamed. I tried to sort out FHB's ipod for the train journey. I am not good with technology. We had a slight contretemps. I realised I am not far away from him having to explain how to use the remote control to me.

We eventually left. I got on the train with my children. They sang 'Hey Jude' loudly all the way into London, much to the amusement of some teenagers sitting next to us. I don't know whether I am proud or slightly embarrassed.

We met Papa and Toot and managed to get across town to the Natural History Museum. Then we set a new record- we entered the main hall and lost Custard within thirty seconds of being in the building. Mine and Toot's voices rang from the rafters and a small boy appeared from nowhere, saying, 'I was just lookin' at the dinosaur'.

It is (always) a brilliant dinosaur.

Turned out the main dinosaur gallery was bloody well closed for a 'Spring clean'. Didn't they know we were coming? Papa staved off an explosion by treating us all to tickets to the new dinosaur exhibition, complete with moving, ROARING, dinosaurs. Turned out Miss T likes a walking, talking dinosaur, but is not so keen on skellingtons: 'Me scared, Mummy'. Just as well the normal gallery was closed then.

We had a great time at the museum, despite the fact that all my children appear to have bladder problems which manifest at different times, resulting in all their grown-ups spending what feels like half a day at least taking small, sticky, jiggling children to the toilet.

What did they like best in the whole museum? The earthquake experience? No, too realistic. The dinosaurs? No, too dark. The volcanoes? No. The fossils? No...  No, what they liked best was the stuffed panda in the cafe, who died in 1972. Go figure.

And the shop. Always the shop. After half an hour of FHB trying to choose between a torch and a pencil I wanted to crawl off and cry.

Anyway...

Then we had the Custard-needs-a-poo-and-there-is-no-toilet-nearby-I-think-I-might-throttle-him-incident; then we met W, who treated us all to pizza. During the meal we took the kids to the toilet a total of 12 times between us. And I had to throw away a pair of Miss T's trousers. Fun!

By the time we got home, Mouse was hysterically tired, Custard was vocally beyond that and W and I bought a bottle of gin.

I had a lovely day you know, and I brought home the same amount of children I started off with. Success!

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