This morning our family set out on a day trip to Balingup so that the older child-folk could attended a story telling workshop. We set out perhaps a little later than we’d hoped, the culprit for the delayed start myself – I’m always the lagger-ag-erer on a Sunday morning.
The mister, who was driver, took the family on a wild-goose chase petrol bargain hunting crusade to Mandurah and accidental detour on the old coast road. Our smallest traveller didn’t appreciate the extra time in the car and made his strong feeling known twenty minutes out from Donnybrook. I was happy enough sewing my hexies (although would have been happier with a cappuccino from the Mandurah detour escapade – but no matter).
Getting the message loud and clear we stopped for a play at the famous Apple Fun Park… and then never went any further on. The day was just too beautiful, the park too fun, the sounds of play and joy too infectious, the smells of Sunday BBQs too delicious to seriously contemplate leaving. Instead it made so much more sense to stay and make our own stories playing and playing and playing. (And suffering the devastation of a poorly made coffee just when an awesome cappuccino was desperately needed #firstworldproblem #mamaneededagoodcoffee)
There was so much equipment. We stayed for about three hours, the children not stopping to eat their lunches. They would seriously have stayed for much longer if they’d had the opportunity.
With all that was on offer, sweet O. still felt that filling his socks with sand was good fun.
Our littlest family member sure was happy crawling around the grounds exploring, much more to his liking than hanging out in the car. Not many photos of his eldest brother though – he was rushing about, all super-spy like, from one apparatus to the next.
Eventually though we had to call it a day, climb in the car and drive the two and a half hour journey back home. We stopped at an orchard to grab a box of apples on our way.
I found a CD with some of my favourite 1980s tracks for the return journey. Great hits like Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Manic Monday, Money For Nothing and Blister in the Sun were lost for most of our passengers, who fell asleep not long after leaving. Don’t worry – they woke up with enough distance to home for eye-spy to become boring.
It was good to skip class.
It’s got me all thinking about the time Dave and I skipped class in Dharamsala. Then our teacher was his holiness the Dalai Lama. We were falling in love and had the foot hills of the Himalayans to explore… but that is a story for another day.