Compromise

Aftershocks be damned, it was a beautiful day in Christchurch.  The perfect antidote to yesterday's interment, a four hour ordeal at Westfield's, and soaking rain.


We rarely brave the malls.  There are so many reasons why, not least of which, I don't want our girls to realise malls exist as an activity option until their late teens, earliest.  But Tangled was screening at Hoyts and elder daughter was desperate to meet up with her young friend and young friend's mother for a movie date.  And they do live on the other side of town, and Hoyts at Westfield's is in the middle.  


Again, we can count the number of times the girls have watched a film at the cinema on one hand (echoing their parents' experience of late).  So of course, I took younger daughter as well.  


The movie tickets, popcorn, drinks, afternoon tea and unplanned school stationery minutiae equates to a ridiculously expensive day with nothing of worth to show for it.  Younger daughter is still trying to establish why Gothel took baby Rapunzel and, clearly, will require multiple sessions in front of the DVD once released. ( It was the magic, life-giving hair that undid her.)  We over-ate, the coffee was bad and later, at home, I rediscovered my loathing of cover-seal making a complete hash of following the three easy application steps.  I'm afraid to say it was PUT AWAY mid-task.


Although I did enjoy the film, especially the gorgeous (in an animation kind of way) and redeemable rogue with the sassy lines, Flynn Rider.

Whitewash Head, Scarborough
Christchurch

So today was truly glorious by comparison.  The girls zipped along the Esplanade on their scooters, while the boy-child coveted the board riders' freedom from his pram.

The ubiquitous cone ice-cream was enjoyed at the Sumner end, before propelling ourselves back the way we came, towards Scarborough and the opposing ice-cream kiosk.  

The Misses Trusttum
Scarborough paddling pool

The girls love pools, even knee-high ones, and shed their clothes with the first note of chlorine.  Fortunately, they had their swimming togs underneath and I was behind to collect all discarded items, including the scooters.


You would never know from the photo that the boy-child had 'had enough' by this point and was RAGING because of all the stopping.  He wanted a swing in the children's play area, which just so happened to be out of sight from the pool, and had done so since we first arrived.


There was an unsuccessful compromise, followed by a twitchy car-ride home.   I'm relieved to say, watermelon on the deck was restorative.