The only thing worse than going to Ikea on a Saturday morning, is going to Ikea on a Saturday morning ... with a mission ... with a two year old! Throw-in a red wine induced, slightly fluffy mental capacity, and needless to say my Saturday morning was like being in labour*.
It's hell! One spends the first 20 minutes trying to drag Hambones through the one-way-maze of display lounge rooms (which not even a tradie named Sven would have been able to produce with Ikea products alone) in an attempt to get to the bed section before he goes completely bananas and rips one of the flat screen TV's off the flimsy, artificial walls. But all your efforts are in vain as you dive to save some Swedish, faux designer vase which has been launched off a plush display couch by your talented offspring. This, of course, releases him from your impatience- and alcohol-induced, rigor mortis grip, amd within a heartbeat, he's halfway up a towering stack of cheap wine glasses.
By the time we did make it to the beds, we were completely shagged and more or less passed-out on the Kings while the darling cherub disappears into the bathroom section to the crash and bang of falling implements.
I've always known that Ikea on a Saturday morning was hell – it's because irresponsible, hungover parents with kids let their monsters go berserk ... now I get it. Have a little sympathy, will ya?
Looks bad enough with a hangover – add to it a thousand screaming children, straight in from AusKick, and see how much your $3.99 Swedish meatballs are hardly suitable compensation. Pic: http://thecuriositiesofacollegekid.blogspot.com
* I know, I know – I just throw it in there to get a reaction!
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