Warming Up

Into London Town this morning to watch the theatrical work, “The Pixie and the Pudding” at the Little Angel Theatre warning of the dangers of not leaving pudding our for pixies when you’ve moved to the country, unless you want to endure their curse. Would have been useful if someone had let us know about this a couple of years ago. All our troubles began just after Christmas, though the pixie in the play stopped short of trying to gas the newcomers who didn’t understand the countryside ways.

It was a fun show with puppets and songs and a strong moral about not upsetting pixies or disregarding superstitious tradition. Also use animal’s given names if you want them to be productive.

The kids enjoyed it and even Ernie stayed in his seat for most of the performance. It’s charming and professional with excellent puppeteering and performances from the non-puppet cast of two. Also I don't know how they persuaded a real pixie to be in the show, but they were brilliant too. Though I don't know why the pixie didn't just magic up its own pudding as it seemed capable of making anything happen. Also as our friend's child pointed out it was a bit naughty as it hadn't had any mains. But if you’re under 8 then I thoroughly recommend the show, but also suggest you now stop reading this blog as I sometimes use adult themes and the word motherfucker.

But were ramping up to Christmas and after a fun afternoon having Nandos and going to a playground in the freezing cold, we came home and risked putting the first Harry Potter film on for our kids. My wife incorrectly believed that the first film was not that scary. Both kids were loving it in the most part though and my son rather charmingly telling our cat not to worry when there were slightly scary bits early on. Great deflection Ernie. We put him to bed before the really scary stuff came on and hit Phoebe’s eyes from some of it. We had probably made a bad parenting decision nonetheless. The thing that really upset Phoebe was the fact that Harry Potter didn’t have a mum and dad. She started crying and told us how sad she was. As much as it was awful we’d exposed her to this idea, it made me feel pretty good. My daughter was showing proper empathy and also revealing that she actually loved us. Though it might just have been her mum that she was mourning. 

But I think that my daughter doesn’t really want me to get murdered by an evil wizard and I couldn’t be happier.

We managed to cheer her up and told her that things like that don’t happen in our world, which luckily she has bought for now. But it was worth mentally scarring her to find out that she might possibly want me to stay alive.