Hell, it has become clear to me, is being trapped in a room with a singing Wiggles 'Big Red Car' which alternately, tinnily and endlessly blares the first twelve bars of either 'Toot Toot Chugga Chugga, Big Red Car' or 'Big Red Car, We Like To Ride' at serenity-obliterating dB. (Learn your future and weep, up-the-duff types.) Civil aviation law probably prohibits me from inflicting such a fate on the other passengers on Monday's trans-tasman Pac Blue flight into Sin City, on the basis that it's an act of terrorism. Which just leaves several hours of A320-bound dullness to try and entertain an energetic 20 month old kid whose favourite things in the world - climbing on stuff, falling off stuff and complaining about it, squealing loud enough to pierce eardrums - will be effectively off limits for the duration, which will frustrate both him and the mild ADD he inherited from his old man. Fortunately, one of his other favourite things in the world, flirting with waitresses, air hosties and other attractive girls in service industry professions (something else inherited from his old man) will be no problem at all - it is a Pac Blue flight after all. The Air NZ flight home in a fortnight might be more problematic as the national carrier appears to be a retirement home for old hosties.
One of the best things about having a kid, apart from the kid, and being able to flirt vicariously with air hostesses, is the excuse it gives you to ramble through toy stores pretending you're looking for something for them, rather than yourself. And building massive go-away downhill racetracks from sticking all the ramps, petrol stations and parking lots together with cheap-arse gaffa tape bought in bulk from Mitre 10 Mega and seeing how fast the thing can get by the sweeping downhill left-hander (a.k.a. the carwash offramp) before the big jump over Teddy and Wags the Dog. Occasionally I even let Lucas have a go, which is probably good for his personal development. So far, our extensive vehicle testing programme, carried out under the most rigorous of scientific parameters, has demonstrated the following:
- Mega Bloks' Tiny 'N' Tuff cars look cool as shit, but have bugger all ground clearance and bottom out on serious surface transitions
- Playskool stuff is more top heavy than Pamela Anderson on a penny farthing; corners best avoided
- Unless on their poxy dedicated track, Thomas the Tank Engine trains understeer like pigs on greased lino- Mummy needs to buy us more cars
- And more track
But, of course, experiments are continuing. We'll keep you posted on our findings.
The Doctor is OUT.
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