Bowling, moon rock and the astronomer's despair.

Being the frugal sort, we like to make the most of cheap deals at the local bowling alley. There aren't many pluses to half term, but early-morning cheap bowling is one of them.

Plus, of course, biscuits are an essential ingredient of any trip out.

(do you like our 'ghostly visitor' on the left of that photo?)

Later, we head to a local museum, for a question-and-answer session with an astronomer, taking a couple of other children with us. There's no space to sit with the children, so I sit apart and a little behind them.

It is just as well. At approximately 3 minute intervals dd declares in a loud-enough-for-everyone-to-hear voice that she's 'finding this a bit boring, and can we go now?' I hiss 'No'. And gesture for her to stay seated. Suddenly it seems she is unable to understand my usual disapproving-mother sign language. 'What?!' she says.

Can I go now?

Moon and Mars rock

In between the questions about the composition of Mars, our youngest companion child puts up his hand and asks earnestly whether there are magnetic teapots in space.

The woman is flummoxed. 'No I don't think so dear. No that isn't right.'

His sister tries to explain where he has obtained this information, and how, actually he *is* right.

The woman lowers her voice to a whisper and does that patronising nodding thing that adults who aren't used to children do when faced with a child's unusual question. I look straight ahead.

'I'm bored, can we go now?' A small, familiar voice pipes up from across the room.

I smile and, for a moment, pretend that I have no children.

Despair at encountering home educated children

The perfect age

This week ds1 has been at Rock School from 9am-4pm. Being a long-haired cool rock dude (or whatever they are now in 2011) he has thoroughly immersed himself in the world of rock, borrowing one of the teacher's electric guitars, and their drum kit and er...doing his stuff. And I've been keeping well out of the way trying not to cramp his street cred with my motherisms.

In order to save fuel to-ing and fro-ing I have been left with the job of entertaining his siblings in the viccinity for 6 hours a day on a not-too-huge budget. So far this has involved a large park, a Nature Reserve, a town museum, a swimming pool, and today a bowling alley, a soft play centre and a chapel with WWI-inspired mural paintings. It's half-way through the week and I'm knackered!

Today, resorting to bowling and soft play seemed a cop-out, but it was a mighty bargain: kids bowl for £1 and buy-one-get-one-free for soft play - how cheap am I? That is, a bargain if you exclude the copious amounts of diet coke I drunk...and the hot dogs...I figure as we're not off on our hols this year, splashing out on cheap crappy entertainment for one week is a sort-of substitute for a wet week somewhere grey under canvas. Besides, I know people with kids in school spend more in a weekend entertaining their kids than I spend the whole summer. See, I can justify anything, me.

But I confess it did make a relaxing change to sit and read and let small people (actually not-so-small anymore) get on with running themselves stupid for 3 hours. Just as they get almost too old for soft play centres it becomes the perfect time to take them. None of that nappy changing, wet pants, lost socks, breastfeeding, rescuing toddler from high-place and finding you can't squeeze your bum through the hole to get him/her, none of that irritating 'Look at me! Look at me!' or 'Mummy help me' stuff.

Oh yes, 10 and 7 years old. The perfect age for soft play. This is the life. (However if I was planning on many repeat sessions I think I'd have to take ear plugs to filter out the high-pitched child-squeal-screams that rebound surprisingly well off of something that is supposed to be 'soft' play equipment. )

And tomorrow? Hmm...maybe more bowling...another museum...another park...another book and a gallon of diet pepsi.