Oh God, Not the Pink Marshmallows - December 23rd

A Lost Boy? What the hell does a Lost Boy wear?? In the midst of packing for Nassau and Christmas and house moving came the Funny Farm Christmas Party. The theme was Peter Pan, and Maia was instructed to come as a Lost Boy.

After the initial narrowing of the eyes (She is not good enough to be Tinkerbell?? Just look at that pretty little face! Look at those curls! That doesn't scream Tinkerbell to you??) followed by conscious effort on my part to save it for the casting director for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (see Funny Face from the Funny Farm), I constructed a costume using only a pair of pajamas, a dinosaur print teeshirt and a tie tyed sarong. So that is what a Lost Boy looks like...

Maia had a whale of a time and it was great to see her interact with all of her friends. Lewis and she spent a good deal of time chasing each other round and round the hall, squealing with delight. Lewis was dressed up as a pirate, which attracted alot of attention from the kids, as it seemed to be the one costume that allowed you to draw on your face. (Now, whenever Maia holds a pen up to her cheek and is told not to draw on her face, she says in a don't-be-silly voice "But I am being a pirate".)

Activities included musical lilypads, with everyone jumping like frogs from one green spot on the floor to the other until the music stopped, singing songs practiced during the year ("soggy semolina, soggy semolina, Ding Dang Dong, Ding Dang Dong") and dancing to very loud, very raucous music.

After a great deal of running around, and a moral dilemma for Pat ("But it feels wrong to drink beer at a kids party") the kids sat down to eat. Now, normally every morning at the Funny Farm, Maureen cooks up a batch of stew packed with chicken and veggies and good stuff. But this was Christmas, and that meant E Numbers with a sprinkling of colouring and a dash of sugar. Before we had even sussed out where she was sitting, Maia had whipped open the cracker containing the sweeties and was cramming them into her mouth with the look of a girl who knew she would lose them if she didn't eat them RIGHT NOW. By the time we reached her she had one slightly damp pink marshmallow left and I didn't have the heart (or the strength) to remove it from her vice-like grip.

We won something or other in the raffle, and emerged, dazed, carrying a tired and somewhat sugared-out Maia. Given that this is a girl that can make one jellybean last a good 20 minutes, I reckon her system is still recovering.