My daughter was so determined to try every single bit of organised fun on offer at the church fun day today, that she even had me sewing. I have the amputated legs of stuffed sock monkey to prove it. (Not only did we fail to reach the torso area, we didn’t even get round to sewing up the groin, which means the level of stuffing fallout in my handbag has reached nuclear winter proportions).
She painted, potted, footballed, bouncy castled, flower-arranged, badged, sang, and danced. Her brother showed an equal amount of enthusiasm for most of the above, but unlike her he flagged when it got to the show at the end, which involved audience participation of the happy clappy variety. The “One more song!” announcement saw him pop up above the pew like a startled meerkat, and yell: “Not ANOTHER one!”
In one of those odd reversals of the natural order of things, it was the non-Prader-Willi-Syndrome boy who was wriggling and squirming in his seat, pleading for teatime. My PWS girl, who never feels full up, and has to have her meals at regimented, pre-determined times, was so captivated by the activities, so pleased to be taking part, so distracted, diverted and charmed, that she didn’t even clock that tea was late.
Thanks to Eve Studio Pottery for the help throwing pots. Which instruction, luckily, my boy didn't take literally...