Saturday, July 12, 2008

Ice-cream Kid Escapes Again

For those simpletons who cannot grasp the immense wit and cleverness behind the title of this particular blog, it is a fictitious breakout of the four letters featured in this photo. Don't get me wrong; I don't mean to be condescending (that means talking down to you like you're a moron). For those of you who do not know IKEA, please post a comment and let the rest of us know how life under the rock is treating you.

We didn't start the day with the plan to go to IKEA. We actually planned to go to a BBQ sponsored by the rugby club. On the way there, Peter and David decided to test my hearing and my patience, both of which have been failing in recent years.

With lightning-fast intellectual brilliance that never ceases to amaze Angie, I came up with a game to both distract and neutralize the backseaters. 'How about we play a game. Nobody can say a word until you see a red car'.

Traffic was fairly light, so this afforded a few brief moments of well-appreciated silence. Perhaps a few too many. I was smiling to myself, silently congratulating my enormous brain and completely oblivious to the red Ferrari, which was now zooming past us. 'RRREEEDDD CCCAAARRR!!! RREEDD CCAARR!! RED CAR! Papa, RED CAR!' I don't scare easily, but I was so preoccupied with my cranial self-praise that I almost drove the car into a nearby field.

We get to the clubhouse around 12:00, which looks eerily quiet. I make a joke that the party is being sponsored by the Rugby team, and those guys don't wake up until lunchtime so the party would probably not start until happy hour. Funny. Angie laughed.

At some point, it dawns on me to ask Angie if she actually knows what time the party should start. Blank look, mixed with a hint of embarrassment, topped with sprinklings of defensive anger. I know this look, actually, so I wisely remain silent as Angie calls our host. 'Oh...Ok, I see...Yeah, sure....No problem...See you at five, then.' I make another joke that in some countries, five o'clock is also known as happy hour. Not funny. Angie did not laugh.

Because the silly Johnson family was expecting to eat at the BBQ at 12:00, we were rather hungry and opted for the obvious nutritious and healthy alternative- Burger King. We got the food to go and drove on. The smell of grease and fat got the better of us, though, and we pulled over at a rest stop to devour our bags of cholesterol.

As always, Peter has an inconvenient way of timing his nature calls. Today the urge came just as I took my first bite of a juicy Whopper smothered with cheese and bacon. Shut up, arteries! My stomach cursed Peter's bladder as my eyes scanned the rest stop. I quickly identified a rather large bush as the only viable option. I escorted Peter over and helped him by holding him at just the right angle that his shoes would stay dry, but he would not somersault forward and headbutt dirt.

At exactly the most inopportune moment, the police drive by. Peter loves the police (give him a few years), so he begins waving frantically at them with his one free hand. I wince, shrink, and just try to avoid eye contact. Luckily, although to Peter's disappointment, they drive on without 'responding'.

We make our way to IKEA, because when you have five hours to kill before a rugby BBQ that was supposed to start at 12:00 but doesn't really start until 17:00 because your wife did not think to check with the organizers to find out what time THEY would like to start the party and just assumed that everyone's concept of a BBQ means lunch, what else is one supposed to do?

Somewhere between office desks and baby beds, we run into Dalia, Peter's 'bestest' friend. We dump them in the kiddy playcenter that IKEA has smartly organized to better enhance the overall shopping experience. It works; I just wish IKEA was open until 2 AM on the weekends so that Angie and I could get our party on.

We ended the IKEA credit card drain with an ice-cream for David. Not for Peter - he was still swimming laps in the pool of plastic balls at kiddy-land. This made it even more special for David, who made a point afterwards of explicitly telling Peter how great his ice-cream was. David's vocabulary is not that far along, so allow me to translate and possibly embellish on his primitive grunts.

Oh, Peter, you didn't get an ice-cream? I am so sorry. I just assumed, you know, since I got one and it was soooo delicious, that you would have got one too. You didn't, though? No ice-cream for you? Boy, that's too bad. That would make me mad, because OH MAN!! That was yummy.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played with Dalia and the big boys who played basketball shoot the ball to me and when I get that Tapir from Brian - that I like.
David: When lila nuna.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I whined and you said I shouldn't whine.
David: When Dalia play my ball.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: When I can maybe watch the movie and the film with Panda and Dalia.
David: When Mama and David and Dalia.

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