The Kinder Concert

We had the kinder concert last week, which all went well, but it reminded me of the last kinder concert we’d been to which was the traditional nativity play. Kids dressed in drab, brown robes with towels on their heads, making it hard to work out who’s Joseph, and who are the three wise men – or even Mary for that matter. Others pretending to be a donkey and an innkeeper – you know the drill.

So there are about forty parents and assorted siblings and other peripheral relatives, squeezed into a tiny class room and naturally it’s been a day of about 38 degrees.

We’re up to the bit where Mary and Joseph are in the stable and the narrator announces that Mary gives birth to a baby boy. Mary, (who sitting on one of those tiny kinder chairs you often find yourself on when having that difficult conversation with a teacher, making it uncomfortable as well as difficult) reaches under the chair, and under her drab brown robe and whips out a Baby Bjorn.

“See girls," one of the dads cheerily calls out. “It’s not that hard.”

The intake of breath from the women in the room exhausts the last on the oxygen. If it weren’t so hot and we weren’t half way through the play, there may have been a riot and a death... and a jury would have acquitted.

On a separate note, the fridge is in – and it’s everything I hoped and dreamed – just gotta get around to reading the instructions… and I'll report back on the celery lasting 28 days.