This time it was my turn to take the kids away for half term. A short trip back up North to visit my brother’s young family. Keep the connection with the roots. And leave The Wife behind.
Usual thing, we turn up to a neat and tidy house and within 10 seconds the place is turned upside down in a whirlwind of hyper excited kids. But it’s all about keeping the cousins connected so it’s alright. And it’s not our place.
We ventured to the Moors, plenty of fresh air and the kids could burn off some of that energy. A bit of good old fashioned cheap entertainment. With no electronic devices in sight.
After a while it actually starts to be a bit difficult to keep a hoard of wild kids occupied on a flat featureless expanse of moorland.
We milked hide-and-seek as much as we could. Which is not bad considering there is not a bush or tree for miles.
After several games of “tig” we started to go through all the variations. Had to explain to our Southern kids that up North “it” is called “tig”.
We ran through; standard tig, team tig, off-ground tig, tig with bases, frozen tig…
Each time a new version was suggested everyone had to shout at each other their suggestions for the rules. Without any regard for what anyone else was shouting. This was obviously the best way to come to a consensus over rules. Complete bedlam.
After each game rule selection shouting match the combination of rules was becoming more and more complex, with the name of the game becoming longer and longer.
The final session was getting quite heated and intense, with the suggested game being; off ground-team-fox-with bases-frozen-box guard-tig.
When the brother’s No2 says
“you mean banana”
Of course we did.
very thing went quite well for ages. Every week we would change the water, clean the bowl, drop Nemo on the floor. He kept going for over a year. Surprisingly sturdy things.