Our 2-year-old boy and I just had our first Wiggles concert experience. To be honest I was kind of excited to offload our 4-month-old baby girl (aka “The Barracuda”) and have some quality mother-son time.
We get stopped on the road outside our home by a lady “Is there a kiddie event on today?”
Me “Yes, The Wiggles. How come?”
Lady “Because I’ve already passed several families with kids in costume, all starting to play up.”
We get to the tram stop which is packed. With parents and kids, some on leashes. All going to The Wiggles. It is a funny society that carries pets like children, and walks children like pets. Several kids were already lying on the floor screaming. I tell my son quite seriously that if he does that then he gets disowned. He nods solemnly back. He understands. Good.
We travel on the tram à la sardines to the venue. More kids screaming. Couples bicker. Old lady gets thwacked in the head with the folded stroller of a harassed mum trying to wrestle her 3-year-old Dorothy the Dinosaur into a seat. Dorothy wins.
The tram arrives at the venue. It is starting time for the show so parents are grabbing kids, carrying them (some of these kids look veeeeery close to maxing out primary school age – ie. dang heavy..), and running to the entrance. We take our time and hang back because (1) I’ve read online that The Wiggles are 20 minutes late coming on – like true rock stars! and (2) I’m waiting for someone to kark it and am on standby to perform CPR.
We get to our seats and have a look around at the other 13,998 people. Not a free seat anywhere. An announcement is made “The Wiggles Show will start soon”. Hysteria ensues.
Further announcements are made, the most notable being “We want everyone to have a wiggly-good time, so please don’t push your child on to the stage at any time.” I start laughing (hard) and look around to see which other parents also find that amusing… No one. (Weirdos.)
The Wiggles come on, and to be honest they put on a good show. They move through their numbers pretty quickly and I guess they have to in order to keep the attention of all the kids on crack (which as we know is wack). I’m impressed by the 200kg heavily tattooed father in front of us who does an impressive rendition of “rock-a-bye your bear” for his little girl, complete with actions. When he shouts “Wake up!” he’s so loud he makes all the other kids around us cry. That’s dedication right there people.
Then it starts. The parade of parents (mostly dads) carrying their kids up to the bathroom. By the standard posture (outstretched arms holding kid under the armpits) and expression (holding in barf) I’m guessing these poor little tykes are only recently toilet-trained and when The Wiggles came on they got so excited they shat themselves. Parenting fail. I’m quietly smug because our boy is in nappies (that doesn’t stop me doing a quick poopsplosion check – all clear – thank goodness because I hate how sometimes you go in too deep and come out with the chocolate finger.)
Intermission is insanity. Kids going nuts. Everywhere. Some parents too. A lady barked at me for not moving forward in the ice cream queue. So I move forward the 20cm just to make her happy, trying not to dry hump the person in front of me. Signs were up everywhere “This is an alcohol free event and alcohol will not be served”. I saw one guy leaning on the counter, head down. I think he was crying.
We leave a bit early to avoid the apocalypse (crowds), and make it home, and just as well as we’ve reached the limits of socially-acceptable 2-year-old behaviour. I’m clearly an #assholeparent because I don’t let our kid take down a sitar-playing busker.
Overall a successful* and enjoyable^ outing.
*^ Definitions subject to change pre- and post-children.